Love Me Nott
by Mocktail
Summary: Ron was the abusive boyfriend and so she left him. Five years later, she's back in the wizarding world, believing love is superficial. But upon meeting a certain man, she starts believing again until she realizes that she must stop. POST HOGWARTS; TNxHG
1. Pasts

Love Me Nott: by Mocktail

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing; these characters were created by J.K. Rowling. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_A/N: Hey guys, this is the first chapter of Love Me Nott. So, I know that there are hardly any Theodore x Hermione fanfics out there so I decided to try with this. I really love Theodore's character – you know, maybe if he weren't so weedy and all. So I made him handsome and more grown up since this story takes place when our favourite characters are adults. Trust me; Theodore will be an alluring man. Previously, if you guys have read my other fanfic – "Tempt Me Vicious" (you could check that out), it was more of a hormonal story than a "sophisticated" one. Here's my second shot. Thanks for dropping by in advance. Reviews are appreciated._

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_CHAPTER 1: PASTS

The walls were painted a neat taupe, plain. The sun had cast dancing shadows all over the room, shining particularly on a dresser that was a dark cherry wood, glazed over in some matte gloss finish with clothes fit for any occasion. There was a bookshelf with books old and new; mostly romances, beside a worn black and white plaid armchair. The floor was paneled with hardwood – medium brown with the natural pattern of wood running through it like a river. They connected throughout the house like vines, like branches, like –

"Shoot!" muttered Hermione Granger to herself.

She stubbed her toe as she exited her bedroom; from a nice, modern flat in Muggle London. She could hear the honking from car horns outside, which just made her heat up even more. Biting her lip to prevent herself from swearing, she paced through the hall slowly, ready to brew a cup of coffee and sit at the kitchen table for yet another uneventful day. She sharply exhaled as the pain from her toe subsided.

Plans for the day? She'd reminisce, or maybe just think of nothing.

Now, people must have wondered why the "brightest witch of her age" ended up in Muggle London and rotted away in her flat day after day. Most people had their bets on her becoming someone important in the Ministry – or if not that, perhaps a professor at Hogwarts.

They must have wondered if she had a family or not, or if she still kept in touch with her friends. People like that were Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter, the only people she really kept in touch with. They never _truly_ knew why Hermione had left the wizarding world for a Muggle life though Hermione had Harry swear to secrecy not to let anyone know the main reason behind it.

The witch still used magic, yes. But she'd lived a pretty simple life; though now jobless, loveless and sometimes even hopeless. She lived by her own rules that she created for herself – no social life other than boring dinners, or perhaps a life bound by books and literature.

But lately, things had changed. Everywhere she looked, she saw of things that she couldn't have; believed that she couldn't _ever_ have whether it be children, love or riches. She had grown accustomed to telling herself that such things didn't matter, that they were overrated and superficial. But those around her weren't very convinced that she genuinely thought this way.

"Why aren't you married yet?" Jean Granger had asked her daughter back when Richard Granger was still alive. Since her husband passed away a few years ago, nothing had been the same. Hermione tried to think of it like he was another casualty from the war against Lord Voldemort; but it was hard. She knew that though her mother tried hard to keep up a happy façade, she was broken up inside and refused to see a new man.

"Sweetie, you're twenty five and still single. Awfully young to be a spinster!" Her flat neighbour Mrs. Perkins had often told her that. She herself was a spinster, eighty years old.

All these questions and comments were thrown around at family gatherings. They would talk about the nonsense that nobody cared about. They would talk about work, their jobs and family lives – how so-and-so's daughter would be heading off to university soon or how so-and-so's son was going to be married soon and why "such a beautiful and talented girl was still single". Hermione spent the past couple years going through this. They were uneventful gatherings unless there was a funeral – other than her father's; which hadn't happened often. She was nonchalant about them though – funerals, though she'd taken the death of her father very hard. It may have been a cruel thing, to not care about death at times. It was ironic, really, because after the wizarding war against Lord Voldemort, Hermione always expected herself to grow old with Ron Weasley and start a family of her own. Unfortunately, such a fantasy had come to an end. It was something, a chance that would never come back to her again because not only had she changed, but Ron had changed. He'd become an arrogant, fake git – some hero by day and a womanizer by night. Their relationship, one could say, was less than happy. It was miserable, and horribly one-sided on Hermione's part.

Thank Merlin he was out of her life – that he _had_ been out of her life for about five years now. It wasn't coincidental that she'd left the wizarding world for about five years as well.

"Ginny and Harry must be the luckiest souls," murmured Hermione. Nobody was listening. She lived alone anyways – Crookshanks now lived with Jean Granger, needless to say.

She sort of envied them sometimes. Recently, they'd sent her an invitation to their wedding. They were getting married. She was rather ecstatic and happy for them at first, writing up a congratulatory letter. But later on, she felt the blues. Everyone must have been getting married now, she thought. Would they wonder about her love life? Would she have been the same bookworm from their Hogwarts days? Some people would've probably forgotten her since she hadn't bothered to keep in touch with them. She'd probably be the only single one at the wedding.

But ha, Ginny Weasley; soon to be Potter, was right. Hermione recalled an interesting conversation they had during their sixth year. Ginny said that one day she and Harry would marry and have a family. She thought about names for children, a place, and home – everything imaginable with that mind of hers. Back then, Ginny was convinced that Hermione would wed Ron and follow a similar path. But all that had changed; it was a thing of the past.

The war came, and war changed everyone. Reality had consumed them all. Those previously thought to have a heart of evil such as Draco Malfoy had become quite a civilized person, sobered by wartime tragedies. It'd changed people into haughtier heroes, like Ron. It'd made people realize love was important, that it should be cherished – like the love Harry and Ginny had.

_Everything changed_.

And now, life was monotonous.

Letters were uneventful. In fact, letters were often short and never meant anything unless there was some huge party going on. Hermione and Ginny still had their fun poking at Fleur, the wife of Bill Weasley. But other than that, the only things that kept them bonded was their friendship – that, and Harry.

_Dearest Hermione,  
Thank you so much for your letter. Harry thanks you as well. No, the baby hasn't kicked yet and Mum's still pestering me about being pregnant before marriage. Oh well, I just hope that you're having a wonderful time. Are you seeing anyone, by the way? You should stop by someday. Besides, I'm expecting, a little gift for the wedding…there's your excuse to visit! If not, you can still check out the books in Diagon Alley. We miss you.  
Lots of love,  
Ginny_

Sweet Ginny, thought Hermione. She was trying to draw her in – back into the wizarding world. Hermione stared at her wand with a softened expression on her face. She remembered the wonderful, magical feeling of being in Ollivander's wand shop. It was warm, crisp and just _perfect_. Receiving the letter from Hogwarts must've been the best thing that ever happened to her. It changed her life forever and made her parents the proudest parents in the world. And looking back, she wondered about why she'd ever given it all up – her friends, her dreams; for an uneventful Muggle life.

And then she remembered and scowled.

-

Theodore Nott sauntered casually into Fluorish and Blotts, a bookstore in Diagon Alley. Before he could inhale the fresh smell of pine and smoke, a little boy, who was up to his waist, came hurdling towards him. Avoiding the short Hogwarts student that spun around him, reminiscent of his younger, weedy self, he nearly crashed into a brunette that was looking at books while he was examining the boy. Short, wrinkled uniform, skinny. Only words could begin to describe a boy that would be on the brink of self-destruction if he met anyone that was out to bully him. Theodore never ran in those circles though. He was nonchalant about those kinds of things. Turning his attention back to the brunette that he almost crashed into, he opened his mouth.

"Sorry," he murmured, his low voice rumbling. It sounded crisp, clear and refreshing. He was a pretty happy guy, after all. The war was over and though his parents were dead, he was content and grateful for everything he had.

"It's okay," said the girl passively. She didn't look up and from the first sight, all he could see was a head of glossy brown tresses that framed her face elegantly. They were wavy and curly at the same time, he couldn't tell but she was definitely attractive.

He examined her for a moment and probably stood there gawking. She had deep-set chocolate brown eyes that held such mystery, yet some unhappiness at the same time. They were big, with long eyelashes that curled upwards. Her eyes were on a romance novel. Theodore's eyes scanned the pages for a moment, recognizing the work immediately.

"Hey, I've read that book before," he announced delightedly.

He noticed the girl's pink bow lips part just slightly, revealing her perfect alabaster teeth. She looked up at him, squinting her eyes at him, as if to analyze him. Dark blue eyes, perfect kissable lips, a head of short black hair that had a textured look. His hair wasn't really straight, but wasn't exactly curly, it was just mussed –in an I-just-got-out-of-bed sort of way. It wouldn't have been the first time someone found him attractive.

"Yeah?" she asked, her voice sounding airy.

"Yeah," he replied with a curt nod. His eyes then narrowed as he spotted her looking back at him. "Hey, do I know y –"

"_Theo_, I knew you'd be here! You little wanker," bellowed a handsome blonde boy as he all of a sudden popped out of nowhere and had his hand on his friend's shoulder. Theodore merely shrugged it off and ran his fingers through his black hair, revealing a dazzling smile.

_Theo_? The name sounded familiar.

"Oh, come off it, Draco," returned the friend.

The brunette immediately looked up, her brown eyes locking with the blonde boy's stormy gray ones. His lips immediately broke into a smile.

"Granger?"

"Oh _shoot_!" She nearly dropped her book on the floor as she caught it mid-air. She sounded flustered. "Malfoy, it's you."

"Well spotted."

He sounded polite, fun – handsome. She glanced at his hand. No ring. She noticed that Theodore didn't have a ring either. She had a habit of doing this every time she spotted someone worth talking to, or someone she knew, or someone handsome. It was only most of the time that the person would never ask her out. And when he did, he was either a total player, or just a total mouse. Draco took it as a sign and grinned flirtatiously at her, ignoring the eye roll from Theodore next to him.

"So what's the brightest witch of our age doing here?" he asked her, inhaling her aroma of vanilla. Hermione was thankful that he hadn't broken into a phony conversation about the weather, or something of the sort.

At the same time, she successfully hid the blush that was going to invade her cheeks at any time. She wasn't used to talking to people like him. People like him were loud and social and probably dated at least six girls a week. She could tell that his player-like ways hadn't changed when his eyes began to roam up the legs of a blonde girl nearby.

Hermione merely shrugged, placing the novel back on the shelf.

"No Ministry position?" queried Theodore this time. She looked over at him now. His kind eyes stared into hers, examining her. His voice made the hairs on her neck stand up.

"No," she replied idly. "I haven't set foot in the wizarding world for five years."

Theodore let out a low whistle.

"You never cease to amaze me," said Draco, winking at her. She smiled at him, revealing a single dimple near her lips. "Anyways, we should be off. It was great catching up."

_Catching up_ – ha! They hadn't even told her about what they were up to.

"Sure."

"See you, Granger."

Draco took her soft hand and kissed it while he watched her reaction with a sly grin. Theodore tried not to wince. He was always like this. He was kind, but such a bloody player. He broke hearts all the time. It made Hermione reminiscent of Sirius Black, who coincidentally was related to Draco.

"Bye, Malfoy. Goodbye…"

"Nott. But you can call me Theo." He sounded enthusiastic.

"Right. Goodbye…Theo." She sounded sour and flat as she said this. She wasn't used to not knowing things – being in Hogwarts as the brightest witch and all. He shook her hand as she met his gaze, feeling his thumb trace a pattern over the top of her hand. It just made her body tingle all over.

As she noticed Draco leave and walk out the door, waiting for his friend outside, Theodore let go of her hand and walked towards the door. Before he took a step out, he turned around to smile at Hermione again, who was now on her tiptoes trying to reach up for another novel. He wondered why she was so interested in them. She was probably single, he decided. She caught him smiling and he blushed a light pink. Returning his smile absentmindedly, she watched him leave.

"Geez, Theo. Get a room next time…"

Hermione heard Draco's voice trail off as she watched the two handsome men prowl the streets again. Actually, men like them didn't "prowl". A better word for that would be strut. Yes, she watched the two of them strut down the streets again, on the cobblestone roads that dipped and twisted into alleys and stalls until they were out of her view.


	2. Twins

Love Me Nott: by Mocktail

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing; these characters were created by J.K. Rowling. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_A/N: Guys, thanks for reading again. Any reviews/comments are greatly appreciated. Please note that I'll be having people (that are supposed to be dead) alive, in my fiction. Sorry if it ruins the whole experience for you._

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_CHAPTER 2: TWINS

"Hermione –"

"Granger!"

Hermione placed a lock of her brown hair behind an ear, revealing her silvery hoops. Muggle earrings. Turning around with a bewildered expression from someone – actually, _two_ boys, calling her name, her jaw dropped. They looked identical, with red hair sticking up slightly, and looked as young as she previously remembered, with their playful smiles on their lips, tingling with laughter. Their eyes were twinkling. Fred and George Weasley in their magenta joke shop robes. She smiled demurely as the two of them engulfed her in a giant hug, cutting off her oxygen for about a minute. She tried her best to regain her composure and straighten out the wrinkles in her outfit as they both gave her a once over and grinned like wild animals.

"We haven't seen you –" began Fred, nodding at his twin enthusiastically.

"In years. How've you been?" finished George.

What could she say? Announcing the death of her father wasn't exactly the best conversation opener even though she'd already accepted it. Ginny and Harry both knew, but there was only so much one could do to try and cheer someone up over a letter. And talking about Ron? Heck, Ron had been a burden for her. It was like a load she carried with her even though she was over him; but just angered by who he had become. Sometimes she'd blame herself though her friends felt her pain and convinced her that it wasn't. She found herself curious about how he was, though Fred and George had probably felt that strange curiosity vibe trickling from her pores already. They passed nervous glances at each other, masked by their boyish charming smiles.

"Good," replied Hermione finally, after catching her breath. "And you? How about the others?"

She was sounding too eager, like someone who'd just been released from Azkaban, or some reject leech. But throughout all of it, she had a giant smile on her face. The boys must have wondered if it was all an act. _They_ didn't know why she left and why she hardly wrote. She'd sometimes receive cards from them, or short greetings, jokes that would make her laugh and miss the old Hogwarts days. But for the past year or so, their bonds had pretty much been strained and in some cases, broken.

"_Ah_, Hermione," grinned Fred. He wrapped an arm around her waist, in the same way that Hermione remembered from Hogwarts. He was always flirting with girls and checking his hand, he wasn't married though she wouldn't have been surprised if he was dating someone. He continued as he pulled her closer to him, in between him and Fred. "We should definitely talk about this over dinner. How about tonight, you head over to the –"

"Are you okay?" queried George, cutting Fred off and shooting Hermione a worried glance. That was when she realized that she was grinding her teeth together so hard that she felt like they'd fall out. She returned an uneasy smile and nodded, turning around for a while when she thought she felt eyes on her – dark blue eyes. Her nose wrinkled and she decided that she was probably paranoid from running into so many old acquaintances and friends. She returned to the conversation.

"Yes, fine. Why do you ask?" replied Hermione unintelligently.

"You're just a little pale and tense, that's all," grinned George. He was the kind boy that Hermione remembered. She sighed to herself. How she missed her friends. Leaving the wizarding world for Muggle London just made her realize how much she'd missed out on and now that she returned, she wasn't sure if she still wanted to stick around. But she sure was curious.

And everyone knew – that it was curiosity that killed the cat.

"Look, I best be off. It was splendid, seeing you two again," she said a little hastily. She had her fingers crossed that Fred wouldn't invite her over to the Burrow. She wouldn't even know what she would've said if he had the chance to ask. She wasn't even ready to see everyone again. That would take some time.

-

"So you saw her today?" queried Ginny Weasley, her eyes widening as Harry placed his hand on top of hers. The lot of them were gathered at the Burrow for the evening. All of them looked happy and satisfied, except for Ron, who kept asking for the time because he had to meet his new girlfriend Jessica…or was it Jenna?

"Yep, down Diagon Alley, looking around –" began Fred, eyeing his brother expectantly.

"Like it was her first time there!" finished George, downing the rest of his pumpkin juice. He slammed it a little too loudly against the table as he put the goblet back down, earning a scowl from Arthur Weasley as droplets of juice splattered everywhere.

"Oh," smiled Ginny, ignoring the pumpkin juice fiasco. She felt slightly disappointed that Hermione hadn't dropped by to visit but tried to act unfazed by it nonetheless. "How is she?"

The twins shot each other coy looks.

"_Hot_," they said in unison. Ginny rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath as the rest of the Weasley clan burst out in hysterics while Mrs. Weasley shot them a scolding look. Again, with the exception of Ron. His ears had tuned in on the conversation, but whatever he was thinking was clearly not showing in his face. Fred and George just smiled and laughed with everyone else. They remained unaffected by Mrs. Weasley's glare. But for anyone else in the room, they knew that if looks could kill, they'd be six feet under already.

"Clearly, some of us 'aven't grown up yet," muttered Fleur, with her French accent ringing in the air. She raised an index finger, wagging it in the air, showing off her floral pink manicure. Victoire Weasley was kicking about and clapping in a playful fashion beside her. Her father Bill reached over and caressed her cheek with his thumb, making her squeal in delight even more. Victoire was just three years old, but she wasn't as daft as most people thought. She was good with cheering even the saddest souls up with a bright smile and could sense emotions as if they were swirling colours in the air.

"You boys are _funny_," deadpanned Ginny, ignoring the silvery blonde French girl on the other side of the table. She turned to Fred and George. "I meant 'how is _she_', as in how she's doing?"

"Right, she said she –"

"Was fine. We were going to invite –"

"Her over tonight but –"

"She looked a little peaky."

Ginny and Harry's eyebrows furrowed together as they exchanged knowing glances. Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat and placed a hand on her hip, on top of her worn brown slacks that did nothing for her figure. She felt the atmosphere shift into an eerier phase. Ron merely rolled his eyes and slumped over, shooting a glance at the clapping Victoire Weasley, who happened to be the only sound source in the entire room. Beside Victoire was the pretty Fleur, fingers laced with the relatively placid Bill. The rest of the family had been silent as well, though you could tell that Fred and George were bursting with excitement as they would pin the silence.

"Fred…George, dear," began Mrs. Weasley, addressing the identical twins with an odd stare.

"No, Mum! _That_ is Fred, I'm George," said one of the redheads as he pointed at his twin, shaking his head in false disappointment.

She was used to this already. They'd done this many times, mixing each other up to embarrass Mrs. Weasley. Merlin, she could tell apart her own children. It wasn't that difficult. Fred had more freckles, and George had a scar that resembled a dimple on the corner of his lip, which many females – women _and _girls, found attractive. It took her forever to figure that out and when she asked about the scar, he never told her so she never bothered pestering him about it afterwards. All this time she assumed it was from a Death Eater during the war, but little did she know that her son was a little dirtier than he was made out to be.

"_Twins_, next time you see her, tell her that she is welcome here. We're friendly, we won't bite," said Mrs. Weasley sternly, passing a look at Ron, who sat in place and yawned rudely. Charlie Weasley, who'd been back from Romania for a week, shot a disgruntled look at his younger brother over his glasses.

"I'm out of here," announced Ron under his breath as he stood up, sticking his chest out in such a pompous manner that the buttons on his dress shirt nearly popped out. It was a surprise that clothes could even fit Ron. He was still obsessed with his figure, looking in the mirror and marveling over the way his broad shoulders would curve in to give him a defined V-shaped torso. He wasn't too muscular or built, but not too scrawny, like he was when he was in his first year at Hogwarts.

"No Ronald, you should –" began Mrs. Weasley, whose eyebrows furrowed together. Her graying red hair was frizzy today and fell into her round face as she was asking her youngest son to stay. Her voice had been etched with a bit of desperation and longing. She missed the old Ron, before the war.

"I have a date," he returned, cutting his mother off swiftly.

"Anyone we know?" asked Arthur Weasley, trying to reason with his son. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or cry because Ron probably knew the girl as well as Arthur or any of the others. He'd date aimlessly and had the wildest idea – that was probably right – that he didn't even know her name and would fail to memorize anything other than a mattress, moaning and the works.

Before anyone could take another breath, Ron walked out of the kitchen, leaving behind a too familiar awkward moment. He was being disrespectful and he knew it. He was selfish and he knew it. He was being a royal git and he knew it.

No wonder he and Hermione didn't work out.


	3. Readings

Love Me Nott: by Mocktail

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing; these characters were created by J.K. Rowling. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_A/N: Guys, thanks for reading again. Any reviews/comments are greatly appreciated. Thanks to all those who commented/reviewed. Ah, I really hope I don't end up disappointing. Half the time, I mess up in my own writing somehow. Just as a side note, I'm sorry if anyone gets insulted by what happens and how people are treated in this story. But I'm trying. I'm really nervous about reading reviews though so sometimes I just don't bother reading. Also, because I pre-write a couple of chapters ahead, any errors in plot would be pretty hard to edit; just in case you were wondering. Anyways, without further ado…_

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_CHAPTER 3: READINGS

About a week had passed since Hermione stepped back into the wizarding world. The feeling of having magic around her – _more_ than her own magic, of course – was still buzzing at her fingertips, on her lips, on her tongue where she could taste it, and everywhere, in front of her eyes. She was back in Muggle London and spent the last few days at the bookstore or café, and occasionally the library; she liked it just like that, peaceful and silent – though she often enjoyed casual conversations with the baristas as lame as that may have sounded.

Reading her new book and uncomfortably shifting in her seat, she thanked a passing barista as she took her order with a silly tip of her head. She was so engrossed in her new book that the word "thanks" had hardly passed her lips, which may have been the reason for why the barista huffed and muttered something under her breath. She thought that reading was a way to escape reality. Maybe it was because she couldn't face it or bear to be hurt again. Nobody really knew her secrets anyways. She raised her lips slightly as she reached out for the small biscotti on a napkin of a tiny brown and white plate. The plate reflected the light onto her face from the window of where she was sitting, making her appear paler in the sunlight that filtered through into the café.

"Hermione Granger?" asked a low, cool voice. She nearly jumped at the sound of it. Turning around and placing her book face down onto the tiny round glass table in front of her as her brown eyes widened.

"Theo," she said quickly, her voice shaking as her hands trembled. What was _he_ doing in Muggle London of all places? "What a surprise."

He noticed how she sat up straight immediately, stunned by his presence. He was relieved that she used his name instead of "Nott".

"Yeah," he nodded, with a black messenger bag with him. He didn't seem like the type that would carry one around, and seeing him in actual Muggle clothing was different. She could see the logo of an upscale brand etched into his white t-shirt in navy and black lettering. She had to admit – _he_ had a body. "Mind if I take the seat?"

"No, not at all," returned Hermione, her voice now softening as she gestured towards the seat across from her. He flashed her a megawatt smile and looked around the café; spotting babies in their baby carriages, crying as mothers would chat amicably with one another while sipping on their coffee. There would be the occasional blind man or woman, which would make Theodore sympathetic towards them but not pity them at all. They, like him, were human. And when everyone died, they'd be in the same place anyways, regardless of blood status. It was one thing that he learned when the war was going on.

As he was snapped back into reality, sitting across from the beautiful Hermione, who was engrossed in her book again, so much that she didn't notice a blonde man place her coffee in front of her. He was dressed in a black dress shirt with a dark green apron over his body and tied behind his back where the tie met his leathery belt that was looped around the top of his tight blue jeans. He flushed pink for Hermione's sake, expecting the man to walk off though he merely stood there, waiting. Obviously, he was waiting for Hermione to look up.

"You know, beautiful, if you don't have manners, more of our baristas will keep making snide comments about you," he commented playfully, forcing Hermione to sit up straight and cross her legs in the most ladylike fashion. She almost kicked Theodore from underneath the table, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Myron! I'm sorry. I was just so engrossed in my book again," she flushed, unable to return his gaze. He chuckled to himself and grinned as his eyes squinted from the sunlight that began to grow brighter. His blonde hair looked like the colour of cut glass in the sun, in its ruffled curly state that would have made any girl fawn over him – that _is_, if they were into the surfer boy type.

"It's alright, I'm used to it anyways," he smiled. Hermione returned her smile uneasily as he placed a hand tentatively on her arm, on top of the black cardigan that she wore over a dark pink top. She hadn't noticed him blush as he did this, his hand almost lingering there as he felt a hot glare coming from his left. He then turned to Theodore, who seemed less than happy to be in his presence. His lips parted slightly. "So who's Mr. Rude over there?"

Myron cocked his head up and gave Theodore a harsh look.

"Oh, that's just Theo," she replied blankly, with an arched eyebrow.

"_Just_ Theo should be it then," he returned flatly. He shot another glance at Theodore for a second, making sure that he understood what he meant. He then returned to Hermione and told her to enjoy her coffee. She simply nodded and let him walk off, not noticing him staring at her before he disappeared behind the counter again.

"So I'm _just_ Theo, right?" Theodore finally asked this when Hermione was finishing the rest of her biscotti. He let his eyes travel over her pretty face again, her glossy locks even glossier in the sunlight. Her hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, which showed off her perfect skin and dazzling bone structure.

"Well," said Hermione. "It's not like you're my boyfriend or anything."

She hadn't realized how ridiculous she sounded until those words came out of her mouth. She felt like slapping herself from the disgruntled expression that appeared on Theodore's face. It was hard to read. But based on their non-existent past together, she could only assume that he was insulted. Right, she thought. Why would _he_ even consider dating _her_ in the first place?

"I suppose. Are you dating this Myron fellow?" he asked curiously. Hermione shot him a look.

"Oh Merlin, no!" she whispered huskily. She then leaned in a bit more. "He's been after me since January but I've made it clear that I'm not interested in him."

Theodore nodded, unconvinced that this was really the case. Just because Hermione was oblivious to Myron's intentions, it didn't mean that he wasn't. He could sense the blonde boy sending sneaky glances his way and muttering curses under his breath. Theodore had noticed the way he looked at her in such an affectionate manner, touching her arm like it was nothing though it was more than evident that he wanted to touch her in other places.

"Listen, would you like anything?" asked Hermione. She was sipping her coffee and watched Theodore, who was just sitting in place and looking around the olive green walls of the little café, admiring tiny photographs of musicians from the seventies and eighties. They seemed to have this awkward silence between them, so awkward that you could eavesdrop upon the conversations around them.

"No, I'm fine but thanks," he replied, relaxing in his seat. Hermione nodded at him, her brown eyes trying to figure him out. "Out of curiosity, _Hermione_, why did you leave?"

It was obvious that he was talking about the wizarding world. There was no need to mention it in Muggle London though. When Theodore asked the question, she first thought about how nicely her name rolled off of his tongue, but then wondered if he really was that curious. It wasn't something she liked to discuss in the public and it certainly made her eyebrows furrow. He noticed her instant discomfort while Myron was looking on with a smug smirk on his face.

"We shouldn't discuss this here, Theo," she replied sullenly. She looked down at her denim clad lap and back into Theodore's dark blue eyes again. She found him sweet, and not as bitter and rude as Draco was years ago. But war had changed Draco, and if Theodore was truly a prat, then at least he'd changed for the better. "Why did you come, then?"

"To leave," he returned, not making much sense at all.

"Me too," she smiled.

"I still live there though. But I spend my time here as well, where I'm away from everyone from _there_," he said apprehensively as he took in Hermione's vanilla scent. She flashed him a curious smile and wondered if their reasons for "leaving" were related at all.

-

Ron Weasley closed his eyes as he felt the girl – Jenna's hands trailing over his naked torso. They were on a leather couch together that sat before the warm fireplace, flames whipping around, creating a fiery shadow over Ron's freckled face. Jenna and Ron's clothes were scattered about, Jenna's leathery skirt on the round red rug that sat over the wooden panels that were tiled together in the living room. Ron's shirt had been discarded somewhere near the door of his flat and he had the wildest feeling that his boxers were lying on top of his owl – Pigwidgeon's cage.

The lights were dimmed and Ron took a sip of his Butterbeer while Jenna kissed his shoulder. It was unusual because today, for once, he wasn't in the mood for sex. He had the brunette wrapped around his finger, and she would readily sink herself onto him with a snap. But she hadn't. He hadn't asked her – or wanted her, for that part. After doing almost anything and _everything_ in her futile attempts to please him, she gathered up her clothes and left him to wallow. Damn it, he thought. What was getting over him? He usually never turned down an offer to get hot and heavy.

"Hermione," he whispered to himself, letting his body warm up from the Butterbeer. It was the first time he said her name aloud to himself, other than the times when Ginny or Mrs. Weasley asked about her. They took the hint and stopped throwing the questions at him. But now she was back, was she not? He tried to shake away the goose bumps that were spreading rampantly over his skin, for a moment missing the warmth that Jenna created with her body and his.

With a gentle clink of his bottle of Butterbeer against the floor, he leaned back into the couch, his legs spread out as he lounged. His drooping eyelids made him doze off, remembering their breakup.

_"Hermione, where do you think you're going?" spat Ron, as he grabbed her wrist angrily, spinning her around as she dropped her baggage onto the ground with a heavy thud. She had an angry look in her face, eyes of defiance, and a stare that could kill. In Ron's case, she was not a threat. He gripped her wrist so tightly that she thought it would snap. She was gasping out in pain._

_They were in Ron's flat – Hermione's flat ­– _their_ flat. After the war, they realized their love for each other was strong and moved in with each other shortly afterwards. That night, they'd made love for the first time and it was the sweetest, most pleasurable experience of Hermione's life. She never thought that she would have regretted it. But she did. The day Ron became a womanizer, she'd never forget. It was the same day that he'd struck her across the face and the day she felt like running away. But she always felt as if she'd done something wrong to provoke him to act in this way and convinced herself that as long as he was happy, she could be happy._

_Too bad it was all a sick fantasy._

_"I'm l-leaving!" she choked out, tears forming in her brown eyes. Her face was red as the water works began, though her eyes were still fiercely staring back at Ron. She wasn't going to stop. He didn't control her anymore, she thought._

_"You're not, Hermione. You're staying," he argued back possessively, sending out gobs of spit as he yelled into her face. Her lips trembled._

_"No," she shot back quickly. She finally broke free of his earlier unyielding grasp and took no time to pick up her belongings once again. "Tell Molly I'm sorry."_

_Ron rolled his eyes. They'd been through this before – Hermione threatening to leave. Each time he'd managed to pull her back onto his side and each time she'd assume her place and suck it up. But evidently, "each time" was different from "this time"._

_"No, you can tell –" Ron lowered his voice, as he was cut off by Hermione._

_"Ronald, just don't. I'm out of here."_

_"You're not going anywhere. Save your energy for bed, unless you prefer the ground."_

_He stared into her eyes and she stared into his, trying to look for compassion, for love, for anything. But there was nothing but empty, stormy blue eyes. They were just the colour of ice – of the ocean. He'd been so bitter. She remembered the first time they made love and spent half an hour afterwards staring into each other's eyes. His eyes had been twinkling then, not dark and stormy. The way he touched her was loving and gentle, and now it was rough and quick. She hadn't enjoyed it. They weren't exactly "making love". Ron would make it was quick as possible, whatever satisfied him._

_"I'm not your whore like the other girls lining up at your door!" she exclaimed, bursting into another wave of tears as she her throat hurt. She could feel herself burning up, the beads of sweat forming over her back, her arms, her face._

_"You said it yourself. I have tons of other women," he murmured sourly._

_"I know, and I'm your lover, Ron – _supposed_ lover anyways," she sighed breathlessly, her brown hair falling into her face. Ron gave her a dark look, his eyes urging her to continue. She looked down at the ground and back up at him. It was so hard to keep her eyes on him without crying again. She thought that it was horrible to lose friends and loved ones during the war against Lord Voldemort. But clearly she was wrong. This was harder than anything – walking away from the man she loved._

_"Go on," he said, after a moment of silence._

_"We – we lived in this house and moved in with each other because we were in love. That's past tense. I don't know where the love went and I'm sorry. For the record, I'm not your whore. I shouldn't be compared to one," she said, her lips trembling as she finished her rant. She felt this invisible force up against her lungs, suffocating her. This was so bloody difficult._

_"Don't be so foolish. I'm as good as you'll ever get," he seethed. She could feel his hot breath on her. He moved closer to her and she looked back up at him. For a moment she thought that he would try to seduce her again, and she felt her knees go weak as he moved his face closer to hers. She was beet red._

_"No," she told herself._

_"Nobody will want to touch you, as wide as your legs will spread," he drawled. He had her backed up against a wall, crushing her with all his weight as she bit her lip to prevent herself from screaming._

_"Goodbye, Ronald," she said inaudibly, her moist lips parting._

_He backed away and watched her depart, never to see her again._

It didn't mean anything, he told himself. He was just remembering. Memories could not hurt him. Nothing could hurt him. With that, the images of a tearful Hermione disappeared from his mind as he sunk into his slumber.


	4. Gifts

Love Me Nott: by Mocktail

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing; these characters were created by J.K. Rowling. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_A/N: Guys, thanks for reading again. Any reviews/comments are greatly appreciated. I was considering making a fake chapter for April Fool's and then put up the real chapter the next day. But, heh. That'd be pretty harsh seeing that this chapter is pretty boring and filler anyway.  
_

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_CHAPTER 4: GIFTS

Hermione sat in front of her glass coffee table with a satisfied grin tugging at her lips. She'd just created a masterpiece – a work of art from a tiny carriage that she'd bought downtown and two figurines. She smiled at the figurines that were sitting inside. They were no longer than an inch when they sat down in the carriage, against the soft velvety seats with fingers laced and bright loving smiles plastered across their immovable faces. She ran her fingers over the hard metal of the carriage, over the gold and bronze lines that framed the entire white egg. It had its own glossy sheen with doors that could open so one could view the inside of the carriage. The wheels of this artwork were in a fixed position, but every line had been etched into the wheels to make them look as realistic as possible.

She stared dejectedly at the two lovers sitting inside. The one that resembled Ginny with her long flowing red hair and white strapless wedding dress looked so much happier than Hermione could ever be. And the one that resembled Harry, with his dark hair and his scar, looking handsome in his suit couldn't have asked for a better wife. Hermione knew that they were just figurines, but lifeless figurines that were happier than a human – well, that was just depressing.

As she sunk into her black couch even more, she felt the soft zebra print throw touch her skin, tickling her bare arms. Her living room was quite plain, though she had a good time decorating. The walls were a deep, rich purple that made everything look lavish. There was a lucky bamboo sitting on a tiny cherry wood counter that was fixed onto the wall – which may not have been as lucky as she thought. She leaned over her seat and buried her face into her silvery gray square cushion, closing her tired eyes, not worrying about the wrinkles that would form in her outfit.

_Peck, peck, peck…_

Hermione groaned as she hugged herself tight.

_Peck, peck, peck…_

"Mm," she grumbled.

_Peck, peck, peck…_

"Fine!" she shouted aloud, nearly scaring the owl off as it pecked at her window. She felt the blood rush to her face, making her red and dizzy. As she stood up quickly, so quickly she nearly saw stars, she paced over to the window that overlooked the busy streets. Hedwig. She tried to smile to herself but could only guess what was contained inside the letter. She tried to stroke the owl's soft, white feathers, though she merely edged away from her, not wanting her touch. With a soft grunting noise, Hermione retrieved the letter successfully. It was cold to touch in a neat off-white envelope. Peeling off the flap of the envelope, she pulled out the folded piece of parchment and scanned her tired eyes over the words written in a neat script.

_Dearest Hermione,_

_I'm writing to say that Fred and George saw you at Diagon Alley. You know, everyone's changed a lot and we haven't forgotten you. I know you might be uncomfortable about seeing Ron, so I hope that we can meet soon; just you, me and Harry and eventually, maybe the others. Tell me what you think, we miss you.  
Please write back,  
Ginny_

-

"Gin," yawned Harry, stretching. He paced over to his future wife clumsily and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Harry was dressed in loose olive green t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. They were staying at the Burrow. Although Harry and Ginny already had a house picked out for their future as husband and wife, they hadn't bothered with decorating yet mainly because they suspected that their friends and family would help out with it. They'd been talking in hushed tones whenever the topic of their home was brought up, away from the ears of Ginny and Harry.

"Hello," smiled Ginny. She was at the kitchen table ripping at an orange, sinking her long nails into its gooey flesh. "Finished your nap, I see."

He nodded.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her. He was worried as his gaze followed hers to the window. Hedwig hadn't returned yet. Outside, leaves blew around, with rain pouring down from the dismal gray sky. The sound of pattering raindrops could be heard. Ginny sunk her fingers deeper into the orange; removing its flesh and watching its sweet juices trickle down her fingers.

"Fine," she said, with a shaky smile. Her eyes betrayed her immediately.

"Is this about Hermione?" queried Harry. He could sense her disappointment.

"How did you know?" she smiled. She stood up from her seat and placed a hand over her still relatively flat stomach. By the wedding, she would have a noticeable bump – quite a big one at that as well. Harry flushed as he watched her take an orange segment and place it through her pink lips. It reminded him too much of what she could do to him.

"I feel the same way. Do you suppose she'll _want_ to see us?" continued Harry. He tucked in Ginny's chair for her and placed his hand on the small of her back while he cleaned up the small mess his fiancée made in the kitchen.

"Maybe…I told her that we miss her but she already knows that," shrugged Ginny.

"She'll come around in time," murmured Harry, pulling Ginny close to him as he was up against her on the wall, careful not to put any weight on her growing stomach. It was quite dark around them and Ginny gave him a coy smile and looked up at him with a bit of her pink tongue trailing over her bottom lip.

"We're alone," she whispered seductively. Her voice was low and husky all of a sudden, reminding Harry of the time he heard his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon by accident getting it on in the living room. He smirked. Uncle Vernon was so flustered when he saw Harry walk in on them. It was a pure shock for him and he didn't know if he should've laughed or cried. Since then, Harry was grounded and would be spending his days, nights and meals in his bedroom.

Harry groaned inwardly as Ginny leaned into him further, closing the distance in between their faces. Harry placed a hand on Ginny's side, trailing upwards and cupping a breast as she moaned into his mouth, her tongue trailing over his white teeth, tasting a bit of mint on her tongue. Before they could take it any further, they felt the area around them shake ever so slightly, with a rumbling noise. Harry failed to pull back from Ginny before two identical redheads appeared before them.

He jumped as he flushed a violent shade of pink and watched the twins smile at each other.

"Aw! Next time, take it somewhere else!"

"Mum! Ginny and Harry are sucking face again!"

George sure was loud, his voice echoing throughout the house. Ginny shot them a very fierce scowl reminiscent of Mrs. Weasley's scowls. Too bad Fred and George weren't afraid of her. They still wore their silly grins that spread from ear to ear, wiggling their eyebrows playfully at Harry. Dressed in their magenta robes as uniforms to their joke shop – Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, they spun around and each of them agilely placed a hand on Ginny and Harry's shoulders.

"So, what can we do for you?" asked Fred eagerly.

"You can start by not threatening us with Mum. She's not home. She left to visit Bill and Fleur," said Ginny breathlessly, her teeth clenched as she stared daggers at her brothers. She calmed down slightly when Harry rubbed her shoulder. They were still glowing from their tiny predicament.

"And one day little Harry junior will join the club!" announced George happily. Ginny tried not to roll her eyes. They _had_ talked about pregnancy but one little slip and forgetting the contraception potion surely made things harder. She couldn't have forgotten the look on her mother's face when she found out her own daughter was pregnant _before_ she was even married. Heck, she didn't even know they'd had sex.

"Right," winced Ginny. She tasted bile in her throat when she thought about that memory. She felt like she was ready for pregnancy and any time now, she'd feel the hardships of being a mother. She knew that there would be special cravings for food and days where she'd cry or vomit from things she was never seriously peeved about. She'd be on a hormonal roller coaster until the end of the ride, where she'd have to pop a tot out of a space so small. She mentally kicked herself.

"Calm down, Ginny," whispered Harry, pressing his lips to her forehead. Ginny relaxed, but nothing seemed to wipe away the worried look on her face. "We'll have Hermione soon, don't you worry. She'll be present for our wedding. She wouldn't _not_ come."

Ginny nodded reluctantly.

"Ah, _Hermione_. The little bookworm sure grew up," winked Fred, trying to remember the curves of her body in his head. "What's wrong with visiting us though? Does she have some new friends?"

"Actually, other than us I don't think she _has_ any friends," shrugged Harry. He wasn't trying to be rude about it but that was how he saw things. "Besides, it's not like we can visit her."

"You have her address, right?" asked George this time, with a nervous grin from ear to ear. His facial expressions hadn't changed when Harry made his comment about Hermione's lonely life. She looked so lost and mysterious when he'd seen her. She seemed happy enough, but he knew better than to assume that everything was alright. Girls were so complicated, he thought.

"Yes, why?" piped Ginny.

"Have you ever considered visiting _her_ instead of asking her to visit us?" suggested Fred, looking at Harry and Ginny as if they were stupid. The two of them nodded. Harry's green eyes traveled from each redhead, waiting for someone to say something.

"She'd most likely have our heads if we appeared at her doorstep without warning. She left for a reason, you know," commented Ginny dryly, poking an index finger into Fred's chest. How dare he suggest that she wasn't smart enough to think of that! Fred moved back just slightly and ran his fingers through his glossy red hair.

"And what was that?" asked George curiously.

"None of your business! But if you see her again, please tell her to visit us," said Ginny sharply.

"Oh, we'd sure like –"

"To see more of her!"

The brothers nudged each other in unison and burst out laughing while Ginny's eyes narrowed. She didn't like where the conversation was heading. Luckily, it was over because the twins left for work and Harry and Ginny now had the house to themselves.


	5. Invitations

Love Me Nott: by Mocktail

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing; these characters were created by J.K. Rowling. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_A/N: Guys, thanks for reading again. Any reviews/comments are greatly appreciated. __**WARNING: **__**Mature scene. **Not too good at writing them, but I'm trying, hehe.__**  
**_

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**_CHAPTER 5: INVITATIONS

A week later found Hermione pacing down the cobblestone steps of Diagon Alley in her true Muggle fashion – a plain white wife-beater that hugged her curves down to her hips accessorized with a faded and crinkled blue-gray ikat print scarf and a pair of black jeans and leather boots. She looked around and noticed that fashion had changed the wizarding world. Girls were now more accustomed to wearing tighter pants and developing some sort of style reminiscent to what she'd seen during London Fashion Week a few years ago. The male population had certainly taken appreciation towards this new fashion revolution. However, a majority of the population still stuck to the traditional robes. As she passed by a couple of stores with cheerful children running about talking about Chocolate Frogs and toffees, her tracks stopped as her eyes locked with another pair – a familiar pair that seemed to be glaring back at her.

"My, _my_, if it isn't the _mudblood_," muttered a tall, slim girl with raven black hair. The girl had her hair grown long to her waist and cut in layers, pin straight, like her bangs that fell above her narrowed eyes. She tossed a lock of her sleek black hair over her bare shoulder and wrinkled her nose as she stuck her chin up snootily.

"Parkinson," muttered Hermione, finally remembering her. She looked up at the slimmer girl, as if to size her up. It was difficult because Pansy Parkinson was at least a head taller than her in her gorgeous heels and naturally long, toned legs. Her legs were a nice tan before they disappeared into her dress that hit mid-thigh.

"Well, it'll be Pansy _Benoit_ to you soon," she began, rolling her eyes as she placed a hand on her hip in the most model-like fashion. Hermione stood in the same way. Honestly, who would want to marry _her_? Pansy Benoit was a joke, she told herself. "Get out of my way. I'm _busy_. I'm meeting with my fiancé soon and honestly, I don't know why I still bother to spend my time in _this_ dump with _garbage_."

Pansy unsubtly raised her hand and showed off the three diamond rings she had in one hand. Words could not describe how tacky Hermione found that. They were glistening in the sunlight like atrocities that couldn't have enough of light – greedy, sinful and a disaster. Thick, glossy gold bands enveloped her fingers so tightly it was a wonder that they hadn't turned blue from lack of blood circulation yet. It was even worse than some of those Muggle artists that liked to show off their "bling". She grimaced at Pansy, who just smiled back smugly with her cherry red lips.

Hermione's eyes, caught on Pansy's smirk, traveled upwards to notice to her dismay that she'd gotten so much prettier compared to her Hogwarts days when she was deemed the "pug bitch" by Ginny. Her eyelashes were now coated with thick, black mascara and her eyes twinkled with mischief. Her cheekbones had grown more prominent, highlighted with rosy blush. Anyone in Muggle London could have mistaken her for a B-list celebrity that was not quite there. She was a wannabe, which was why she'd never make it to the top.

"Oh _Parkinson_, you're back from France again," drawled a silky voice that had undertones of sarcasm and rudeness. Pansy yawned and visibly blanched at the same time, spotting a handsome blonde man – a _too_ familiar handsome blonde man stride into the scene. Hermione's breath was caught in her throat as she spotted Draco Malfoy, with his eyes narrowed and lips forming an unfriendly pout. First, she'd run into Pansy and now _him_.

"Draco!" her voice all of a sudden became high-pitched and shrill, different from the coquettish voice that she tried so hard to achieve. She ended up sounding like a hag. Nobody could have missed the disgruntled expression on Draco's face. He had a dark look on his face, but still looked handsome with his well-defined cheekbones and perfect reddish lips. Hermione nearly wanted to laugh at how lame Pansy was until she felt a strong arm snake around her and a hand resting on her bare shoulder. She felt goose bumps all over her body as she tried to move further away from Draco, surprised that he would have done that.

"How good it is to see you again," he drawled, piercing gray eyes narrowing as his gaze followed her long legs. Pansy moved them closer together in a dainty manner, her hand still rested on her hip. He shook a thought out of his head and continued. "I wouldn't ever imagine you to take a step in this _dump_."

"Well, I gu –" She began to stutter, her tone of voice becoming increasingly modest. Hermione smirked. Check mate.

"_No_, I don't think that's Parkinson, is it, _Hermione_? She'd never come here," continued Draco, completely cutting off Pansy, who had already regained her composure and stood up straight, sticking her chest as far out as she could, in hopes of getting some attention. In response, Draco's hands trailed down Hermione's arms, oddly freeing her of the tension that was inside of her earlier. He turned to her, throwing her the most seductive look.

Did he just go on first name basis with her?

"N-no," replied Hermione. She felt tempted to back away. She wasn't accustomed to being this close with the opposite sex. The chiseled, beautiful Draco would never take interest in the jobless, loveless Hermione that locked herself away from everyone, alienating herself from society. Everything whirled in her mind at a hundred miles per hour and memories allowed themselves to be relived, replaying in her head.

_Ron shoved Hermione up the wall as he tore away her pink peasant top. She tried to scream but no sound came out of her mouth. Her wand was too far away from reach, and Ron let his roll on the floor, kicking it away as he pulled off his shirt to reveal his ripped muscles. Hermione sobbed uncontrollably and silently as she spotted pink lipstick marks on his neck that trailed down to his stomach and disappeared as they must have headed down south. They didn't belong to her._

_"Oh relax, 'Mione. I'll be gentle," he said flatly, his eyes narrowing as he undid the clasp of her black bra, letting it drop to the floor. She knew it was a lie, he was never gentle. Shivering as her dusty rose peaks met with the cold air, she felt her arms get pinned up above her, her wrists twisting in pain._

_"Please," she mouthed. Her face was damp with tears. She tried to look for something in Ron's eyes. But the love they had for each other – it was gone. Only she loved him, and he thought she was a mere toy, a chore to put up with and a plaything. His eyes were like ice, staring back into her watery ones._

_"Shut up!" spat Ron. Hermione was silent. He'd cast the charm on her. There was no way he would have been able to hear her anyways. With a loud slap across her face, Hermione's jaw dropped. She felt warm liquid trickle down her lip, tasting bitter and salty. "No more crying."_

_She nodded meekly, feeling as if it was her fault that he ended up like this. If she'd given him more love, maybe things would have changed. As her pants dropped, her underwear followed. She reluctantly stepped out of them before Ron crushed himself against her once more. He leaned down to flick his tongue over one of her peaks, causing her to jerk about. With a strong hand pressing into her other breast, she gasped out in pain. Writhing against the wall, he bit down onto her hurting body, leaving a bite mark. She was like another possession of his – and he'd marked her._

_"Yes, writhe for me," he hissed in her ear. His breath was rugged and fast, which meant that all of this would be over soon. Hermione shuddered from the closeness of their contact, sniffling as he was rid of the rest of his clothes. She cowered, praying that she could shrink and disappear into the wall behind her. All she felt was shame, from the hot tears on her face. She looked away from him, feeling a lump in her throat as he gripped her wrists again, knowing that there would be marks tomorrow. Wincing from the pain, he slammed her onto the cold floor. Pain shot through her body and she began to see snowflakes. Her back was sure to be bruised and she didn't know if she could get up. "It's where you belong, you frigid bitch."_

_Hermione's eyebrows were still knitted together in fury. She would suffer in the silence. As her body was pressed against the floor, she felt a chill go up her spine. Ron hovered above her, his face glistening with sweat, with his usual smirk fading into a thin line. The freckles scattered across his nose seemed to disappear in the light of the room. She felt his eyes glance over her body, every curve she had, down to her center. Forcefully parting her thighs, he thrust into her, letting out a scream before he painfully thrust deeper. Hermione's teeth were clenched and her eyes were closed. Beads of sweat formed at the nape of her neck. It felt as if he was shattering every shield she'd put up for herself. It felt like her world was burning because nobody knew this side of Ron. She couldn't lose him. She loved him. She hated herself for letting him become like this. Letting a single tear fall down the side of her face, Ron thrust into her one final time before standing up, leaving his girlfriend on the floor._

_The air reeked of sex. Hermione curled up into a ball and cried silently as she watched Ron disappear down the hall. The air was cold, and her heart was slowly breaking again. This was their routine – the closest they really got to each other. As she felt the pain subside between her thighs, she stood up and hobbled over to fetch her clothes._

As the memory finished playing in her mind, she quivered just slightly, unnoticed by Pansy and Draco.

"That's what I thought," Draco hummed, continuing the conversation. He then glanced over at the girl that stood before him – the tall one, the one that was shocked. It had been humiliating for Pansy to stand there and let him gnaw at her like that. She knew their relationship at Hogwarts had been fake; but this was just cruel. She simply stood there until Draco opened his mouth again, his voice caressing Hermione's ears, which made her teeth chatter. "Let's go get you ready for that party tonight."

She nodded idly, still in heat of what just happened. _What party_? Certainly, his voice had been loud enough for Pansy to hear because with a huff, she strutted off loudly, her heels clacking all the way that the sound finally disappeared when she took a turn.

"Sorry about her," he said softly.

"No, she's just being herself," smiled Hermione passively, leaning slightly closer into Draco as a group of young schoolgirls passed by. He flashed another one of his beautiful smiles but she didn't seem to notice. "But making up a lie about a party's sort of stretching it, Malfoy."

Draco freed his arm from around her and tucked both his hands into his pant pockets and continued to stroll down the cobblestone, letting its bumpy surface grind against the soles of his feet. He could smell her rich, vanilla aroma as a warm breeze lifted up the hair on her neck, wafting her scent in the direction of his nose.

"Who said it was a lie?"

"Umm, wasn't it?"

"Hell no, you're coming over tonight, alright?"

Hermione blinked twice, standing place. Her face was unusually pale.

"Are you okay? You're looking sick," he said, his voice laced with worry.

"Yes," she replied quickly.

"So you'll come over, right?" He was just back on the topic. It was as if his worry was a one second thing. Hermione felt the blood flowing back into her cheeks again and tried to smile, though it came out stiff.

"Not to be _rude_ or anything, Malfoy," she began. He seemed to look disappointed by the way she was addressing him now. But he stood there patiently, awaiting an answer. She stepped further away from him this time and continued in a formal, rehearsed voice that was often heard back in Hogwarts when she was answering a question and earning points for her house. "But we don't really know one another and I don't know the full details of this 'party'."

"It's at my place," he said, stating the obvious. Hermione continued to walk in a timid manner, each leg crossing over the other. She looked down at her leathery boots that met at the cobblestones and then back up at Draco, who had a hopeful look in his gray eyes.

"Malfoy Manor," she began, closing her eyes for a second to try to shake out the feeling of Bellatrix Lestrange torturing her endlessly. It was pain that was difficult to describe, like every one of your nerves and organs in your body was going to explode and burn. She shuddered as Draco placed a hand on her shoulder. It felt like a giant weight that was going to push her down, into the ground where she'd choke on the gravel and stones that would be shoved down her throat. It wasn't until she felt her face warm up again did she realize she was crying.

Draco didn't let her finish her sentence and instead pulled her into an embrace. Hermione stood there and let him hold her. She didn't exactly feel safe, but she felt a bit of optimism shoot up into her veins. His touch was warm, but her insides were cold. She shivered, tensing up against his body. She didn't trust anyone. She had issues about that after being with Ron. The only person she fully trusted was her father, and he was dead. Jean was still alive, but not someone Hermione could reach out to. They had regular visits, but their chatter had diminished from once spectacular conversations about where to go for summer vacation to topics of disinterest. Next in line were Harry and Ginny, in which there was a bit of strain on their relationship. Best friends or not, she could not forget how sweet they'd been.

"Look, you don't have to come. But everything will be fine, I promise," he whispered in her ear. His breath tickled her. She didn't believe him, though a part of her wanted to. "For the record, Granger, I don't live there anymore. Bellatrix can't get you."

She pulled back and looked into his gray eyes with a confused expression on his face. She must have looked like an idiot right now, with her face drenched in tears, and her watery eyes looking desperately at him. Of course, Bellatrix was dead. She felt a lump rise in her throat and only found herself asking him a question out of curiosity.

"So you don't live there anymore?" she squeaked softly.

"That's right. I burnt the manor down," he replied bitterly.


	6. Covers

Love Me Nott: by Mocktail

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing; these characters were created by J.K. Rowling. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_A/N: Guys, thanks for reading again. Any reviews/comments are greatly appreciated._

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_CHAPTER 6: COVERS

Hermione took a deep breath as she stood outside the location Draco had given her. She looked up. Yep, this was it. Her eyes scanned the short wrought iron gates outside Draco's place. It looked like any ordinary Muggle brownstone townhouse complex but unoccupied. It was more like an old, abandoned house if anything. She was surprised at how he'd downgraded his living conditions. Back when he lived at the Malfoy Manor, everything was dark, gloomy, luxurious and beautiful. Rooms and walls were adorned with priceless artifacts and perhaps their chandelier alone was worth more than Hermione's flat in Muggle London. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had an eye for beauty and style. Draco's style sure was different. There was only one giant door at the end of the steps and path past the gates. Her eyes scanned the spiraling patterns that moulded up the steps. She admired the long paned windows that stretched up the three-storey home, disappearing behind a big tree.

Hermione felt butterflies in her stomach that were slowly transforming into mutants, making her feel under par. She wasn't ready to step in there. She didn't know who Draco remained friends with other than Theodore and honestly wasn't ready to face more insults from pureblood fanatics that hated her kind. She instantly wondered if there would be any of her old classmates from Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. At least then, she'd be able to see some friendly faces.

As she placed her hand on the front of the gate to push, she felt a zap of electricity course through her body, numbing her senses momentarily. It must have been charmed, she decided. Maybe if she jumped _over_ the fence, she'd make it. Slowly, she lifted her hand up to touch the air above the gates, feeling a hard surface that made her see snowflakes. The thoughts in her brain swirled like sugar in coffee and she felt discomfort around her throat. She stumbled back slightly as she lost her balance, only to fall into some sort of chair. Somehow she was able to relax, tension floating away from her body. There was a hard surface where her head lay; and warmth that smelled sweet and fresh; something she was familiar with after laundry. The scent was different, however. She could breathe now, inhaling the sweet smell – not from food, or fragrance products, or even from soap. This smell was natural. As her breathing regulated, she felt the chair beneath her move, with heat filtering down her sides. Her cheek rested against something faintly bristly, tickling her as she rolled her head down a nearly non-existent slope.

"I must be on drugs," she murmured inaudibly, a hysterical gasp coming from her throat. Her hand was rested on thin cotton over a hard surface with a few ridges and ditches here and there, curves that moved inwards and met with harder fabrics. With each touch, the chair beneath her warmed up. It was comforting for her. A soft groan could be heard from the background.

"Hermione!"

She ignored the voice and furrowed her eyebrows together, hugging herself from the breeze that just swept by the otherwise stagnant spring air. Her eyes fluttered open slowly to another call, only to realize that the "chair" she occupied earlier was in fact the body of Theodore Nott. She flushed a crimson red and immediately pulled away, pushing into his chest before sliding backwards onto the gravel behind her. Her bottom hurt, but her pride hurt even more. She helplessly glanced up and squinted her brown eyes from the evening sun that was coming from behind Theodore's body. He looked like some sort of god, his chiseled silhouette moving closer towards her. The thin fabric of his tee was thin enough for her to make out his body, and abdominal definition. His loose jeans were wrapped around his legs with the hems of his pant legs dragging at the ground in its distressed and worn state before they collected around his clean black shoes.

"Oh my gosh! I'm sorry," she murmured, blinking quickly.

"No worries," he replied as warmly as possible. He bent over slightly and Hermione glanced at the outstretched hand in front of her. She looked back up into Theodore's face uneasily, with a sick feeling in her stomach. How embarrassing! She hadn't cuddled up with anyone like that since Ron – well, other than Crookshanks, of course. "You're looking sort of green, Hermione."

When he received no response, he mumbled, "Come on, let's go in."

She continued to look up at him stupidly, the sun casting shadows over his handsome face. She was going to stubbornly sit there, huh? She sort of looked like a child on the floor, who just had her favourite toy taken away from her.

"I guess you could stay there if you want," he said jokingly. His laugh was hesitant, but his intentions were genuine.

Hermione's teeth gritted, her tongue feeling chalkiness along her molars. As soon as he made that statement, she stood up, her brown eyes still narrowed. This was more embarrassing than the time she fell on her bottom while trying to run into Ron's arms years ago. She was still recovering from her little predicament. Knowing that the ridges and hardness of "the chair" was undeniably and unmistakably his toned torso, she refused to continue such a conversation.

"How come you're not surprised that I'm here?" she asked breezily. She fanned herself from the warmth that was enveloping her. Adjusting her dress to make sure she wasn't flashing anyone, she stood back up straight. No sign of weakness anymore, she grinned.

Theodore smiled appreciatively at her attire. She didn't seem to notice because she was too busy trying to look nonchalant by staring ahead. Her glossy brown hair was swept up in a ponytail, with some locks of hair resting by the nape of her neck, which looked long and refined thanks to her smocked strapless dress. It was a rosy pink – like the colour of the strawberries in strawberry ice cream. Its hem was attractively cut and ended two inches above her knees. He tried not to keep looking down because at that moment, she turned back to look at him, awaiting the answer to her question.

"Draco said you'd be here. Besides, you can't get in without me," he replied. Pulling out his wand from his pocket, he tapped different points and tips of the gate. Hermione memorized what he was doing. She glanced up at his face to see his eyebrows knitted together in concentration, and his tense body looming over the fence as he looked around furtively for a moment. He had an amazing profile with his prominent cheekbones and beautiful jaw perfectly shaped and placed.

Hermione cocked up an eyebrow as the tip of his wand glowed a bright white until the bars of the iron gates folded and twisted until lines and curves formed, melting over each other and twisting until they formed a thicker duplicate under the first curve, with a tiny slit in between. She now realized that it had formed a pair of very feminine lips, reminiscent of the pair Muggle movie stars had. Hermione gasped in shock. Right, someone like Draco Malfoy needed security too. Maybe when running away from his lady friends, she smirked to herself.

"Password?" the gate creaked. The voice that came out was mechanical and feminine.

Theodore bent over to whisper into the mouth, which made Hermione chortle. True, the mouth had no ears. With a coy smirk in Hermione's direction, the mouth pursed shut until Theodore said the password in his deepest, lowest voice.

"_Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus_."

Hermione's brown eyes widened as the bars creaked and hissed, stretching upwards and swirling around until it formed a beautiful black door formed before her; tall and grand, but slim and small. Her eyes scanned the big metal mass as if it were a work of art; it was. She'd never seen a gate do that before. It must have been some spell he designed. She noticed that Theodore hardly flinched or reacted to the gate, but wore an amused expression on his face. How dare he laugh at her!

"Come on," murmured Theodore. His hand hovered over the smooth, black handle of the door and looked at Hermione expectantly. "We have to do this together. It's for security – you know how paranoid he is."

No, she didn't know how paranoid he was. Besides, what was worth protecting in this lonely, lifeless brownstone he called home? Hermione noticed that his voice was low and she instinctively placed her hand over the handle before she felt a tugging sensation on her arm. Theodore's other hand pushed her hand close enough to the handle that she was touching it as well. Before she knew it, she felt the cool metal nearly scorch her skin, making her grimace. Letting the cool waves envelope her, she felt herself press through some sort of tube – the ground beneath her feet disappearing before it was over, feeling the floor once more as the sensation ended. She sighed, realizing that she was on her bottom. Looking up, she spotted Theodore with his outstretched hand again. Ugh, was this some ploy to humiliate her?

"What was that all about?" she asked rudely. Theodore seemed to be taken aback by her impoliteness. His expression seemed contorted for about half a second until realization hit him. Right, a girl falling on her bottom twice in five minutes couldn't have done much for her dignity. He cleared her throat as he pulled her up, watching her run her hands over the front of her dress self-consciously.

"Just look around, Hermione," he replied gently. He urged her to look around.

"I know it's a lonely house," she said flatly, folding her arms across her chest like a stubborn child. She just wanted to go home already. She had enough of this. If all of Slytherin house had met up just to humiliate her, then they'd won because she was embarrassed enough as is.

"No, _Hermione_!" chided Theodore with an eye roll. She looked furious. Furious, but beautiful. Her eyes were a deeper shade of brown now, and she was biting her bottom lip so deeply that he thought she would bleed any moment. He noticed that her hair was no longer in a neat ponytail, with more strands of hair poking out. Her dress was not as neatly pressed as it was before, but she was Hermione Granger all the same. Perfect bookworm Hermione just didn't cut it anymore. She was still a lover of literature, sure, but she had grown into a beautiful young woman since their Hogwarts days, and it was a wonder that she wasn't married yet. He grabbed her shoulders before she could protest and steered her body in the direction of the huge mansion that faced them; to look around at the wonder that surrounded her, striking her with awe.

"Holy…"

The lonely, rundown brownstone that stood before her outside the gate was now replaced with a beautiful mansion. The mansion looked beautiful and not as dark as the Malfoy Manor. In fact, Hermione was impressed and at a loss for words. It was huge. Doric columns held up a large gray and white roof that had swirls and intricate designs of roses and vines. Underneath were large French doors that would invite the visitors into Draco's mansion. Moving further away, there were five stone steps that flowed into a pathway before winding down to the gates where Hermione and Theodore both stood by. By the gates were perfectly trimmed shrubs that sat in flower beds, with two fountains, steps ahead. The fountains spouted out clear, pristine water that came out of a stony fair maiden's lips. All around were rows and patches of emerald green grass that seemed even richer in the evening sun, where the same type of albino peacocks from Malfoy Manor roamed. She turned around to face the gate, noticing that the lips were gone, as was the door. All that was left were the black bars that shielded her from the outside world, unknowing of the beauty that lay past the brownstone complex. Looking through the bars, all she saw outside was the empty street she Apparated to when Draco told her where to go.

She turned to Theodore, who simply smirked.

"H-how?" she asked. Her voice came out more like a surprised, confused squeak than that of a smart, confident witch. Theodore let out a friendly laugh and pocketed his wand before taking a step forward.

"You're a bright witch. You know better than to judge a book by its cover," he replied.

"Right," she sighed, walking beside him while running her hands through her brown hair to smoothen out the extra strands that were sticking out. Theodore flashed her a smile. "But why couldn't we just Floo here?"

"To teach you how to get in," he said softly. He inhaled her vanilla scent as she inched a little too close to him while avoiding a peacock that was beside her foot. She could smell his sweet scent as their shoulders brushed, forcing her to back away a good three inches before continuing their conversation.

"Well," she sighed halfheartedly, rubbing her temples. "at least he still knows how to live in style."


	7. Crashes

Love Me Nott: by Mocktail

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing; these characters were created by J.K. Rowling. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_A/N: Guys, thanks for reading again. Any reviews/comments are greatly appreciated. As you may have already noticed, I get really lazy with description…ha ha! I'm also pretty unfamiliar with British terms so you'll have to bear with me when I use the same terminology over and over again. Also, I'm almost done Chapter 16. That's how far along I am. It's why I can't really change the plot when I'm so far ahead.  
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_CHAPTER 7: CRASHES

Astoria Greengrass crossed her long, thin legs and took a sip of her Firewhiskey as she tried to look away from Blaise Zabini and her older sister Daphne Greengrass, who were nearly having a go at it on the couch beside her. She had her chestnut brown hair down, reaching her shoulders, touching the black straps of her evening dress. Hermione tried not to wince at Blaise and Daphne, but merely gave Astoria a weak smile.

"So I see some things still haven't changed," smirked Theodore as he gave Astoria a friendly peck on the cheek. She gave him a sarcastic smile with a gentle roll of her ocean blue eyes. Blaise and Daphne shamelessly stopped kissing and shook their heads at Theodore with an identical smirk on their faces. Daphne was perched on Blaise's lap with her legs hanging off the side of the couch, showing off her pretty dark violet flats. Her dress was a matching type of violet, tightly clinging to her long, curvaceous body and pushing up her pert breasts. Blaise looked at her lovingly and planted a kiss on her forehead.

"Theo, you just don't come around enough. Daphne and Blaise are _always_ acting like teenagers," grinned Astoria, standing up. She turned to Hermione instantly when she noticed an unfamiliar face behind Theodore. She cocked up a perfectly arched eyebrow and shot a look at Theodore. "And who's this?"

After asking that question, Blaise and Daphne looked at the brunette properly and broke out of their intimate bubble. They both looked her up and down. Above average in height, long legs, slim, pretty face. That could have been anyone. Hermione felt a little uncomfortable.

"Guys, this is Hermione Granger," replied Theodore. Daphne raised her eyebrows and Blaise smirked. Who knew that the little bookworm Gryffindor had turned out the way she did? Astoria smiled and flattened out a wrinkle in her dress. Her small breasts were hidden behind a V-neck spaghetti strap dress that had an empire waist encircled by a black sash. The dress itself was a mix of black and white – matte black sequins over the bust area and white where the dress flowed out in neat white chiffon above her knees.

"_Oh_, friends with Potter and Weasley, right?" Blaise was the first to break the silence.

Hermione nodded.

Great, now he probably thought that she was a mute because Theodore introduced her and now she couldn't even muster a simple "yes". Honestly, she didn't know what to think. Had the war changed them too? How come Pansy was such a tart then? She looked from Blaise to Daphne, who wore calm expressions, then over to the stunning Astoria, with a friendly smile reaching her eyes.

"So this is the great Hermione Granger, one third of the Golden Trio," she mused. She had all of that memorized, which made Hermione wince. She was just trying to be sweet, wasn't she? Or maybe she was just letting out her Slytherin venom on her. Hermione shook Astoria's hand with a grin on her face, her pink lips a thin line. She wore a perfume that made her smell like honey and lilac.

She smiled at Blaise and Daphne, who refused to rise from their seats as they began snogging again. Astoria gave her a hopeless shrug with a smile tugging at her lips.

"So what've you been up to lately, Hermione?" she asked. At least she was friendly to go off on first name basis. She wondered if she was one of those girls who would smile and giggle with you while simultaneously putting hemlock in your drink. She gave her a weak smile.

"Nothing, literally," she said. Her voice came out colder than it should have. She didn't know Astoria all too well, even at Hogwarts. Theodore nudged her as if to tell her not to have any preconceived notions of anyone. "How about you, Astoria?"

She returned her response on first name basis. Perhaps they would have an enlightening conversation. She took in her surroundings. They were in a huge room that looked a lot like the Gryffindor common room but larger. She smirked at the rich, glossy floorboards beneath her feet and then at the maroon couch in front of her. The room smelled like Butterbeer and Firewhiskey at the moment, mixed with the fresh smell of pine wood and autumn spice. It was a change from the cold, clammy feeling of Malfoy Manor; for which Hermione was grateful for.

"Oh, I've been out and about. Nothing too special," she smiled, before turning her head to an angle and looking at Draco's red and brown brick fireplace. Hermione didn't turn around, but nodded as Theodore shot her a look as she took a step back onto the cream rug beneath her.

That's when Hermione followed Astoria's gaze, noticing the younger girl's glossy lips stretch with a smile. Hermione turned around, facing a young man with a head of curls, in a sandy colour. His eyes were a deep hazel and he had a friendly smile on his face. He was relatively tall, dressed in a loose red sweater with dark jeans. She gave him a blank stare. There was certainly something familiar about him. Perhaps it was the fact that his ego seemed to be pushing at the walls of Draco's large mansion. How Draco's mansion could hold the egos of Blaise Zabini, the mystery male and himself was beyond her. The mystery male tilted his head up in her direction and his eyes roamed all over her body, making her feel unpleasantly warm all over. It was an absolutely insulting thing to do! How dare he!

"Who's that?" she whispered to Theodore with curiosity.

He turned around and gave her an odd expression. She returned his response with a hand on her hip. She tried not to come across as haughty, but it was difficult when there were so many questions left unanswered.

"Why, Hermione, that's Seamus Finnigan."

-

"Would you like anything to drink, Hermione?" queried Seamus innocently as he flashed her one of his not-so-innocent smiles. She could see right through him. She saw what he was playing at. Refraining from rolling her eyes, she cocked up an eyebrow as the two of them lounged outside, looking up at the bright stars that sat in the sky like glistening diamonds. Hermione was instantly reminded of Pansy Parkinson's tacky rings. She shuddered and physically winced at the thought of that.

"No, but thank you," she replied curtly. The past thirty minutes had come and gone. She could hear the music and laughter from inside, but out here was just the sound of crickets and the occasional breeze that brushed past them. She learned that Seamus was planning on going professional with Quidditch, which was a future that even Hermione could not foresee. When he told her, she politely wished him luck and in response, he asked her what she was up to. She couldn't avoid his judging eyes, scanning her for any weaknesses. Of all people, he should have known about Ron and his ways, right?

She remembered telling him that everything was fine. That's when he asked her for the umpteenth time if she wanted a drink. She was feeling increasingly uncomfortable leaning against her cushioned seat. She wouldn't lie. She was never too comfortable with sitting with him in the first place. She only agreed because Theodore decided to dance with Astoria and she didn't want to end up as the third wheel with Blaise and Daphne. Although she could have easily slid into another conversation, she was just not in her own "zone". Thus, she agreed to spend some time with her old childhood friend. But honestly, how could she be comfortable with Seamus when her _best_ childhood friend Ron had ended up hurting her? It had completely betrayed all trust she had for him. It had completely betrayed their years of friendship. Most importantly, it had completely betrayed their love.

"Come on, just a drink. I'm sure with all our talking, you're absolutely parched."

She could even feel his hot breath on her neck, creeping down her body like possessive chains that would chain her down to the seat if she didn't comply. Something in her chest tightened. He sounded mildly seductive, reminding Hermione of Ron in the worst ways possible. She bit her lip and turned to him. She didn't need to be reminded. She just needed space now. She wanted to get away from him. It hurt her just a bit because it seemed as if their short, childhood friendship was lost. Back when he still ruined his potions at Hogwarts and back when he couldn't perform the simple _Wingardium Leviosa_ spell. Why, those were the days when everything was simple.

"Okay then, thanks," she said shakily.

After watching him disappear, she followed him in and shot Theodore and Astoria a nervous smile as they saw her. She pretended not to see the look that they shared, but then again, they didn't know where she was headed; for she was sneaking her way up the luxuriously burgundy and gold carpeted stairs. She didn't know where they led and frankly she didn't care. If Seamus Finnigan thought that she'd just sit there and let him feel her up and get her hot and bothered then he sure had another thing coming!

The noise from downstairs gradually faded away with each step she took up the plush steps, comfortable on her feet. The tightening feeling in her chest increased, as she knowingly continued to traipse through unknown territory. She was just dying to get away with everything downstairs. Thoughts and memories flooded her and haunted her once more, reminding her why she left for Muggle London in the first place. Of course, the people she met were sweet and kind, but they were also associated and linked to the people that hurt her – Ron Weasley. Although Seamus hadn't mentioned him, she knew that he must have known what he was up to these days and truthfully, she didn't want to know because she was sure that her guess wasn't too far off the mark. Her heart hammered against her ribcage as she heard a sobbing noise, followed by a crashing noise. Zipping past the plain ivory and crimson wallpaper plastered on the walls of Draco's mansion, she cautiously followed the mysteriousness that grew louder.

"How many times do I have to say this?" slurred a low voice. There was a crashing noise and a squeak, as well as a sob. Hermione leaned into the wall, with fears erupting inside of her. What was going on? Her mind had sobered up to the possible level of danger that surrounded her. With her hand grazing her thigh over her dress lightly, she sighed in some relief that her wand was still strapped there.

"Draco Malfoy!" shrieked a higher, airier voice. Her voice sounded broken up in chords despite the fact that she'd only uttered four syllables.

Hermione's lips quivered, her breath caught in her throat. She was almost certain that something wasn't supposed to be happening; that she was prying in someone else's business. Curiosity drew her closer, as she tiptoed closer to the noise. She knew she should have used her brain and call for help, or perhaps jump in to save the day. She knew her days playing heroine were well over after the war. But she couldn't help it. Thoughts of Ron shoving her up against a wall only made her brain swirl up. She began to shake uncontrollably, closing her eyes with images of him yelling at her, abusing her…

"Get out!"

"I didn't mean to. It's likely that nothing will even happen."

"Just leave…"

"I was just jealous. I promise –"

"_Leave_."

Another crashing noise came, followed by another squeak before the glossy wooden door opened before her. She gasped, preparing herself for what or who would come. With her knees feeling like jelly, she pressed her hand against the wall, her eyes meeting another girl's eyes of the same colour, only with a more liquid look – she'd been crying.

"Are y-you okay?" asked Hermione quietly. She noticed a red splotch along her wrist and her face burning red with her makeup smeared everywhere. The corner of her lip was bleeding and tears were still flowing from her eyes, squinted and narrowed as they looked Hermione up and down.

"What do you think?" spat the girl. Hermione was taken aback by her rudeness but still stood there. The straps of her black and cherry pink dress were hanging off of her bare shoulders and she looked completely disheveled. Her hair was a mess – brown locks coming out of her bun. Hermione wanted to walk closer to her because the girl reminded her so much of herself. How she'd run away and how she'd never expect anyone to care because they shouldn't have.

"Who did this to you?" asked Hermione, her lips trembling. Draco Malfoy. It was him. It had to be him. As soon as the girl would answer, Hermione would call for help. She couldn't believe that she actually thought Draco had turned into a gentleman. He was still a prat at heart. She felt her hand tighten against her wand even more, her nails digging into her flesh. She should have never come to this party. She should have been at home, having an overdose of caffeine and preparing biscuits for tomorrow morning's brunch with her mother.

The girl's eyebrows knitted together, and something flashed before her eyes. She was amused, but confused at the same time. Maybe there was a hint of surprise in there as well. Hermione felt her shoulders relax slightly.

"Why, you did," the girl replied silently, staring right into Hermione's eyes.


	8. Shivers

Love Me Nott: by Mocktail

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing; these characters were created by J.K. Rowling. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_A/N: Guys, thanks for reading again. Any reviews/comments are greatly appreciated. So far, the storyline looks really unrealistic. That's magic, unrealistic as well. But I'm just trying to think of a plot, so please forgive me if it seems to suck. If you don't like it, then stop reading. This story isn't all lemons. If you're reading it for that reason, then please go find another story. Also, this is the first of the chapter dumps, since I uploaded a couple chapters to make up for my lack of updating. Sorry! Exams just finished and I was really busy this month._

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CHAPTER 8: SHIVERS

"_Why, you did," the girl replied silently._

What did that girl mean when she said that Hermione did this to her? The fact that she looked battered and worn had fazed her but she shouldn't have had anything to do with it. The worst part was that she'd never seen her before. After their mysterious encounter, she put her wand away and leaned against the wall for a short breather. She still felt a small pain from where the girl had intentionally collided shoulders with her, shoving her away just a bit. Rubbing her sore shoulder to alleviate the pain, she stepped closer to the door beside her, where the unusual crashing sound had stopped, now replaced with a faint tinkling noise.

The door was still open, but it was the darkness and some streams of moonlight that drew her eyes to the plush, carpeted floor that cushioned glistening shards and fragments of glass, along with a liquid Hermione assumed could be Firewhiskey. _That, or someone's blood!_ She mentally shrugged away the discomfort at the thought of that. She silently traipsed through the carpet and instantly shivered under the cool temperature of the room. She felt goose bumps form on her skin as she hugged herself. Her brown orbs continued to scan the area amongst a few bookshelves that would give Hermione's personal book collection a run for its money, a luxurious leathery couch made of the finest material, a messy and cluttered desk, a few doors that could have lead to other places…and then her eyes widened at the next thing, no, _person_ she saw. She felt her breath get caught in her throat. Oh Merlin.

No, forget Merlin. It was Draco Malfoy.

And he'd been watching her the whole time. His stormy gray eyes were reduced to slits as his skin shone like ivory in the moonlight. It was just a bit of him but enough to get Hermione scared. She was _very_ afraid. His gaze from afar could make an ocean freeze within seconds. And those lips, those red lips were moist, curling into a sneer as his fingers threaded through his blonde hair. He looked like death. Hermione should have run. She _commanded_ herself to run and call for Theodore or Blaise, or _anyone_. But her feet wouldn't move. It was as if she was glued to the ground and Draco's gaze had put her in her place. She wiggled her fingers for a buzzing sensation, her breath returning irregularly.

"You're not welcome here," he sneered, looking her up and down. She felt even more uncomfortable in his presence. It was funny. _He_ was the one that invited _her_ over. Now he was telling her that she was unwelcome? She watched as he picked up a bottle of Firewhiskey beside other bottles that littered the carpet around him. He was lounged on the floor, nearly submerged completely into the darkness. As Hermione prepared herself for the inevitable, she closed her eyes, letting out a deep breath.

_Throw the damn bottle, and I'll run. I promise, I'll run away. Yes, that's the incentive I need to move – to get away from this place._

She was shaking, her lips trembling, fighting a wobbly scream as her vision began to blur. The room began to darken and her eyes could not adjust to the lack of light in the room. Her knees felt like jelly yet she could not move. She could not fall or else. The only thing she could do was place her hand over her thigh once more to feel the wood of her wand through the fabric of her dress. It seemed so warm compared to the air around her. It made her feel safer, letting the blood in her body circulate properly.

"I told you to leave just now!" croaked Draco. He pressed the bottle of Firewhiskey to his lips before tossing it about a meter from Hermione's feet. A loud smashing noise could be heard as the glass surrounded her. She instinctively blinked and bit her bottom lip. She could feel her teeth drawing blood – the taste of copper meeting her tongue as she swallowed hard. She took a step back, with her heart hammering against her ribcage while Draco began to stand up; his mumbling inaudible as he carelessly sauntered towards her.

-

"Lyra?"

A few heads turned to the witch and her splotchy face. Her shoulders sagged; her lips were pink and pouty. The blood from earlier had dried along the corner of her lip and black circles around her eyes from her makeup had now formed an unattractive crustiness along her skin. Her dark eyebrows were furrowed together as she took another step down the stairs tentatively, unable to look up from the chagrin that ate her whole. With each step, she let out a defeated sigh, looking tormented and broken as she finally met the cool room. Life around her was still going on. Couples chatted amongst themselves. Some whispered about her while others glanced in her direction and continued as they were earlier.

"_Lyra_."

It was another voice this time. This voice sounded surer and confident, not as airy and surprised as the previous. She didn't know who it was for she could not look up to feel the shame tingle against her skin anymore. It wasn't a tingle; it was more like a flame that she was engulfed in.

"Lyra, look up," said the first voice. Her voice became an octave lower and slightly louder. It was slightly melodious, but Lyra refused to listen. She just had to get out of here. She'd leave from the main entrance instead of the Floo Network.

Before she could take a turn, she felt a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back and prevent her from taking a step. Her hair fell in her face as she turned around to come face to face with a pretty girl with her eyebrows furrowed together, and a tall young man who stood sharing the same worried expression as the girl.

"Daphne," sighed Lyra. She looked behind Daphne Greengrass to spot her younger sister Astoria, who surely must have been the source of the airier sounding voice. She felt humiliation sting her eyes as Theodore looked down at her too. "I'm going to go now. Goodnight."

"Oh no, you're not," huffed Daphne. She had her nose in the air as she shook her head, nudging Theodore in the ribs. He mentally winced at where the sharper part of her elbow touched him. Of course, _he_ knew what had happened. He just didn't know how, why or _what_ provoked such an action from his friend.

"It was Draco, wasn't it?"

She took a deep breath. Everything came out jumbled.

"Yeah, but I really should –"

"Was Hermione up there?"

Lyra frowned. He was asking about _Hermione _and not even asking how she was feeling. Humiliation, maybe? Pain? Feeling stupid for coming to the party in the first place? She narrowed her eyes. A wave of anger washed over her all of a sudden. She saw red. Of course everyone cared about the heroine of the wizarding world. Who was Lyra when there was Hermione? Besides, she'd only been nameless for a couple of days until recently…

"Yes," she replied, with her teeth clenched.

-

"Draco Malfoy!" she screamed, as the blonde man came towards her, grabbing her arm and leaving behind crescent-shaped indents in her skin. She could see the glaze over his eyes, the unfamiliar twinkle that she never saw before. She was shaking as pain met her arm once more. Her eyes were wide with horror as his free hand covered her mouth. The feeling of suffocation was overwhelming her. It wasn't so much the pressure that was against her lips, but it was more like psychological asphyxiation that was translating into something physical. Her muffled cries came out as his thumb was pressed against her jaw, cupping it tightly.

She diverted her gaze down below, where her shaking free hand lifted up her dress, which was hiding her wand. She noticed Draco follow her gaze and he snarled and dug his nails into her arm further. She gasped in pain, but no sound came out as his hand was still cupped over her mouth.

"You little slut, I don't want to sleep with you," he frowned, his eyebrows knitted together as he wore the expression of rage on his face. Hermione's face could have worn a similar impression if it weren't for her position. How dare he insinuate that _she_ wanted to sleep with _him_! Up until now, it was Hermione who assumed that Draco was going to do something stupid, but right now she was one big frenzied mess, a big ball of nerves.

She felt warmth flood down her body like sweat as her fingers felt like butter around her wand, pulling it out. Draco took a deep breath and she could smell his breath – Firewhiskey. She winced and tried to take a step back, her fingers slipping on the side of her wand, letting it clatter to the floor before she could reach for it. She took another step back, trying to look for it, but the pain on her chin was unbearable, it was as if her head was going to snap off and she was helpless. Besides, the room was so dark that even if she'd found the wand, Draco would have gotten to her by then.

She felt no strength in her body; she felt just as helpless all those years when Ron tried to come on her. The feeling of crushed glass beneath her feet made her feel more unsafe, but if she could play that to her advantage and let the larger of the two of them drop to the ground, then perhaps she had a chance.

"I've told you, Ly –"

The rest of his words came out incoherently as he swayed back and forth, his grasp on Hermione weakening, but forcing her to fall back until she fell into the shards of glass beneath her with a thud. The sound of a thump and cracking of glass met her ears as a searing pain was pressed against her palm; and her bottom as sore as ever from her third fall in the same night. She didn't need her fingers to meet her palm to know that she was bleeding.

Draco moved closer to her, his lips trembling for about a nanosecond before he broke out into a loud laugh, in short, staccato notes that made the usual legato drawl of his voice seem so much more appealing. It appeared as if he wasn't laughing at Hermione, but more like himself as he mumbled illogically and had a smirk plastered across his handsome face. The brunette on the floor believed that if she scurried away quickly, she could get out. But even if that was possible, she didn't know if her body could allow her to do this. She hated this. She didn't know why she couldn't defend herself.

As a whimper came from her throat, the drunken mirth in the air that surrounded the Slytherin and Gryffindor had died and Draco's amused expression had now morphed into an angry one. He looked down at Hermione with his cold, icy gray eyes, his eyebrows furrowed together as he grumbled. Hermione felt as if her legs were melting into a pool, as if the blood that was smearing over her smooth skin was forcing her to feel lightheaded. Her arms flailed around nervously and uselessly as she groped around for her wand with no avail.

"Draco!"


	9. Heroes

Love Me Nott: by Mocktail

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing; these characters were created by J.K. Rowling. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_A/N: Guys, thanks for reading again. Any reviews/comments are greatly appreciated. Part two of chapter dumps. Go back to the previous chapter in case you're checking for the most recent one.  
_

_

* * *

_CHAPTER 9: HEROES

"Draco!"

Hermione heard a voice in the background once more, but everything became a haze as she heard a crashing noise, followed by a few grunts and hisses. The fear that coursed through her veins made her remember everything that had made her leave for Muggle London in the first place. There was Ron and his abusiveness; and the fact that everyone was oblivious to his actions hadn't made things any better. Sweat was pouring from her body; her face, back, legs and arms. She was shaking uncontrollably and with each shake, she could feel the glass near her body prick at her skin uncomfortably. Her fingers felt greasy and bloody, and her lips were as dry as paper. The trailing of her velvety tongue over her bow lips did nothing to moisten them for even her throat felt closed up and she couldn't breathe properly.

All she could see with her hooded eyes were a few flashes of light coming from what she assumed were two wands. In what Hermione also thought was Draco's drunken stupor, he was conjuring spells aimlessly, almost hitting her foot as she lay there like a helpless doll. Someone was helping her! Someone was saving her! The other wand! Yes!

Before she could get a chance to see who it was, she heard a thumping noise and her head throbbed with pain as her vision blurred even more before blacking out.

-

_A familiar redhead and blonde man towered over her as their laughter filled her ears. The world was spinning around her as they pointed at her and continued to laugh. She started to scream and thrash, but she couldn't move. Her body was too weak. She felt like a useless vegetable, drowning in her own tears and screams. She closed her eyes but only felt the laughter increase, and the world spinning even more. She felt so nauseous. She only wanted to roll up into a ball and cry. But she couldn't move. As a hand fell over her face and she felt a dreadful pain as a loud scream escaped her lips._

_"Hermione…"_

_Suddenly, everything became white._

"Hermione!"

There was the voice again. She easily recognized the voice. It was the same person that rescued her. She groaned in discomfort as her vision returned, looking up at a ceiling and feeling something plush under her body, holding her. Oh, how her head throbbed! Did she have too much to drink? Was she dead? It took a while for her to register her thoughts. No, she wasn't dead. If she were dead, she wouldn't be feeling like crap. She'd felt more pain than this before; both mentally and physically, so it wasn't supposed to be something worth fretting over, she tried to tell herself. But even as her lips parted, she felt discomfort and nausea. So much for that…

She blinked away a few tears from her eyes as her fingers tapped against the surface it lay on. It was soft and warm. However, her wrist and fingers hadn't felt so flexible. It felt as if there was something wrapped around them that restricted her movement. She blinked a few more times as she took a deep breath, letting the air that smelled like green tea fill her nostrils. She focused on the scent as she closed her eyes again, letting the warmth she craved fill her up.

And then reality hit her.

She shrieked as she flew up from her comfort, so quickly that the pain from her head throbbed even more. She felt as if a ton of bricks had just fallen on her, or that her skull had been cracked open. She felt as if the pain was coming from all sides of her head, about to crush her brain into a little flattened piece of mush. She grimaced as her hand dug into the seat, trying to take out the tension in her body, but now only her hand hurt. What _wasn't_ hurting? She bit her lip instinctively until an arm snaked around her waist, pulling her back down. She yelped and kicked as she fought against the arm, but the pain that she felt was so strong that she had to lie down again. The cushion under her head made her relax only slightly.

"You're safe, Hermione," said a soothing voice. It was unmistakably masculine.

_Did I ever feel safe?_

Hermione groaned as she slowly turned her head to face her right, wondering who it was. Her eyes widened in horror at the sight of his unruly dark hair and somewhat pale face. His reddened lips were a thin line, indicating that he was somewhat angered or peeved. Or maybe, it was worry that was etched all over his fine face. His usual chipper self was replaced with that of someone with a false sense of happiness. Theodore. Oh, what had happened? She then looked down at herself, in her panicked state, noticing the white bandage that was wrapped around her hand that was once covered in blood and glass. She instinctively raised her other hand to touch her head before a hand covered hers. She flinched.

"Don't do that, it's not healed yet," he said quickly, puncturing the silence. Hermione bit her lip, feeling pain envelope her once again. With her hand still in Theodore's, he grazed his thumb over her knuckles comfortingly. She shuddered from his touch, worried about the odd electric feeling that formed in between them. What _had_ happened?

_As a whimper came from her throat, the drunken mirth in the air that surrounded the Slytherin and Gryffindor had died and Draco's amused expression had now morphed into an angry one. He looked down at Hermione with his cold, icy gray eyes, his eyebrows furrowed together as he grumbled. Hermione felt as if her legs were melting into a pool, as if the blood that was smearing over her smooth skin was forcing her to feel lightheaded. Her arms flailed around nervously and uselessly as she groped around for her wand with no avail._

How many times had she bitten her lip in fear? Her fingertips grazed over her pink lips, which felt warm. She couldn't at the sight of her own blood now tainting the whiteness of her skin because her head hurt even more. She looked over at Theodore with a sad expression painted over her face. That's when it hit her!

Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy's party. Draco Malfoy's party guests that were still trapped inside! Draco Malfoy's party guests that probably didn't know what was trapped inside _with_ them! She fell into a state of shock and panic as her body shook, her eyes screwed shut as she took breaths of air. Her fingers dug into Theodore's hand unknowingly until he hissed. Her knees were drawn close to her chest as she rocked herself in her position, her eyelids fluttering as she felt another hand trail down her arm.

"Don't…touch…me. Stay away from me!" she shrieked. She was so loud that she felt as if she could break a hundred windows by now. She fought the tears that wanted to pour out of her eyes and the sweat that was now forming all over her body. What was happening to her? Why did everything feel like this?

"Hermione, what's wrong?" queried Theodore, pulling his hand away from Hermione. He tried his best to keep calm. At least one of them had to keep cool or else. He was beginning to feel imprints of her fingernails over his skin. He didn't mind that, not with the hurting witch in front of him.

"It hurts. It hurts so much," she stuttered, her lips trembling as she opened her eyes again.

"Hermione, just relax," winced Theodore, not knowing what to do with the witch. He turned around and beckoned a creature, whispering in the softest of tones. "Mipsy, please get me some Murtlap."

Hermione didn't notice the little House Elf scamper off.

"Theo, people…_Malfoy's_ house! Dangerous," her breath was erratic. Theodore noticed how she refused to use Draco's first name but refrained from commenting on it. Her lips trembled only slightly now as her brown eyes were fixed on his blue ones. He felt horrible for her. She had been thrashing in her sleep and yelling and screaming out inaudible things. It was very difficult for him and Mipsy to heal her. They could have easily cast a spell, but they were no experts. Besides, she had a bump on her forehead and glass punctured through her skin. They wanted to fix her up as quickly as possible.

"Hermione, I promise you that they're fine, will you just stop shaking?" he asked, losing his patience only momentarily. The crazy look in her eyes slowly diminished into nothing as she pursed her lips, letting a wave of realization wash over her.

"Did you do all this?" she squeaked, gesturing at her hand. She wiggled her fingers for a second and slowly sat up with the help of Theodore. He was grateful for the change in topic. His hand was uncomfortably draped over her hip, but she couldn't push him away. She didn't fully trust him, but at least he had saved her, right?

"Mipsy and I did," he replied earnestly. He was going to have to answer a bunch of questions now. "She'll be back with the Murtlap soon."

Hermione cocked up an eyebrow and tried not to wince from the pain.

"Who's Mip –"

"_I_ am Mipsy, Miss Hermione."

With the soft voice of Mipsy, Hermione spotted a small pink elf with big eyes approaching her way. Her jaw dropped and she quickly moved away and sunk deeper into her seat if that was even possible. They were in Theodore's living room, a beautiful spacious area. However, Hermione couldn't take in her surroundings because at the moment, her eyes were traveling between Theodore and Mipsy as if it were some sort of tennis match. They both stared back at her with curious gazes until a smirk fell on Theodore's handsome face.

"Ah, I don't mistreat Mipsy, don't worry," he said reassuringly, scratching the back of his neck.

"Yes, Master Theodore is very good to Mipsy!" squeaked the tiny House Elf with a grin on her face. Hermione felt herself weakly grin back. Mipsy looked healthy for a House Elf. She recalled how Kreacher, the Black family's House Elf, had looked so haggard and old all the time, or Dobby, who was mistreated by Lucius Malfoy back in the day. She sighed deeply, trying to shake those thoughts out of her head. There was no need to get all emotional now.

"Oh Mipsy, how many times have I told you not to call me 'Theodore'? It sounds so…formal and old," he smirked, throwing Hermione a playful look. At least she was smiling again, he thought. It made her forget about her pains momentarily.

Hermione broke out in a small giggle until Mipsy smiled as well. She felt like the tension around her had fizzled away until they all broke out in melodious giggles. Theodore's masculine voice, combined with Mipsy's high one, and then Hermione's in between. It was like a symphony of laughter, forgetful of the pains that each one of them had in the past.

"Come on, we need to check out on your hand again. Then, we'll check out that nasty bump on your head," smiled Theodore. He was kneeling on the rich, hardwood floor of his living room. Hermione felt comfortable as she swung her legs off of the cream-coloured couch and her feet met the cool feel of the floor beneath her.

"You should sit," said Hermione quietly. He must have been kneeling for hours, judging by the darkness that was outside. Oh _shoot_, she had to get home! How long had she been here? She told herself to relax as her gaze was torn away from the maroon curtains that were draped on either side of the window. She looked around even more, at the painted peachy-white walls of the room where occasional unmoving black and white portraits hung. Black wooden drawers and shelves were stacked neatly beside each other on one side of the room, where doors and passageways led to other rooms. Green plants sat in certain places, in neat vases. Who knew that Theodore Nott had a sense of style – a bit of _Muggle_ style, when it came to decorating homes? Was he some sort of interior designer?

Theodore took a seat beside her as he watched her take out some wrinkles in her dress. She didn't really care for the wrinkles, but began to panic when she realized that her wand wasn't with her. Her eyes widened once more as she ran her hand over her thigh a few more times, causing Theodore to furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

"Theo, my wand!" she said rather hurriedly. She looked unbelievably desperate.

_Hormones, it had to be hormones._

"What about it?" he asked stupidly.

"I dropped it at Malfoy's!" she snapped. She sat upright as she looked down at her knees with an indescribable expression plastered across her face. It was a mixture of pain and loss, but she wasn't focusing on her head right now. She was focused on her wand. "I can't get home without it, Theo."

"We can't go back," sighed Theodore, running his fingers through his dark hair with a hardened look. He was unable to meet her gaze, but he knew that her face probably darkened reasonably upon hearing the news. Who was she kidding? It wasn't as if she _expected_ him to offer to retrieve her wand.

She was bloody screwed.


	10. Repayments

Love Me Nott: by Mocktail

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing; these characters were created by J.K. Rowling. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_A/N: Guys, thanks for reading again. Any reviews/comments are greatly appreciated. This is part three of the chapter dump. Go back two chapters if you're reading this around the previous update date._

_

* * *

_CHAPTER 10: REPAYMENTS

Hermione bit her lip in response, her teeth grazing along her bottom lip uncomfortably. It made her feel dreadful to hear that. Whether she chose to bottle it up or not, it was evident that she wasn't in a happy mood. She'd been bottling _everything_ up for years now. Her feelings towards love, her outlook on life and even her relationship with Ron! Her cords and ropes she had tied between her and her friends were being thinner and more strained with every fleeting second. She had these barriers put up around herself, to protect her from scrutiny and judgment. After all these years, she still had that same reputation – the Muggle Gryffindor bookworm.

Theodore held her gaze when she looked back at him with sad brown eyes. He felt a mixture of guilt and pain welling up inside of him. He wasn't going to blame himself because after the predicament with Draco, he had to rush Hermione to his place to heal her wounds. He hadn't even thought of the possibility that maybe she had dropped her wand.

"Sorry, Hermione," he said, his low voice making Hermione's lips quiver.

"It's not your fault," she said gloomily. She picked at an invisible piece of lint near the hem of her dress and pursed her lips into a thin line before looking back at Theodore nervously. How her head throbbed even more when she was under pressure!

At the corner of her eye, she could notice how Theodore looked genuinely sorry, and how his tone of voice had been so apologetic. But there was nothing he could do right now. The two of them knew better than to use the Summoning Charm. It obviously wasn't going to work. And he'd be crazy to Floo back to Draco's to retrieve her wand. Yes, he'd knocked him out, but when Draco was drunk, he was vicious. Theodore shuddered from the thought of that and ran his fingers through his unkempt hair before resting his eyes on the brunette beside him once more.

"I mean, I guess it must suck to lose your wand and have to do things the Mug –" he began, immediately regretting his choice of words. His dark blue eyes widened and he placed his hand over his lips. "Sorry, it didn't come out the way I planned."

And none of this _was_ planned. Hermione nodded idly, knowing what he was going to say. He was going to comment on how much it'd stink to have to do things the Muggle way. Of course, she'd be an expert in surviving wandless unlike those pureblood snobs who had wands _and_ House Elves. Her upper lip curled at the thought of that.

"Of course not, I understand," she said quickly. She pursed her lips to fight the pain that was still on her head. Maybe the sooner they ended this conversation, the sooner she'd get some help. Merlin, where was Mipsy when you needed her? "By the way, Theo…about Draco…"

Theodore cocked up an eyebrow and motioned Hermione to stand up. She did, very slowly without the help of a certain man. She refrained from rolling her eyes because she had to get up _herself_. She wasn't expecting to be babied. She followed him into another room that seemed to be disconnected from the rest of the house. She wasn't even able to take a good look around because of how awful she was feeling. But as soon as they entered the room, with its kiwi green walls and dark brown shelving and counters, she felt an instant wave of relief wash over her.

"Just lean against the wall and I'll get you something," he murmured to her, his lips close to her ear as his arm was snaked around her. She wasn't going to fight him despite the fact that she felt uncomfortable with him touching her like that. It may have been unintentional, but it didn't feel nice. She screwed up her eyebrows and pouted as she leaned against the wall like an impatient child.

"You didn't tell me about Draco yet," she whined. As she said that, she thought that she saw Theodore smirking.

"Oh, he's like that," he drawled, while he shooed Mipsy off and whispered something. Hermione could only make out a few words and gave up afterwards. But Mipsy disappeared, so she just let it be. "He's not a bad guy at all. But when he's drunk, he can get rather nasty."

"I could tell," huffed Hermione angrily, recalling the incident that just occurred not too long ago.

"Oh, don't hold it against him. I'm sure he didn't mean to. He was probably just angered," shrugged Theodore.

"What could he _possibly_ be angered about?" queried Hermione, beginning to sound too ridiculous and outspoken for her own good. "Angry that someone didn't want to shag him?"

Theodore ignored her icy response with a smirk as he rummaged through a few drawers. He left Hermione to wallow in more of her own pain – silence. Finally, with a small clink, he reemerged from his search and took out a glass vial with a bubblegum pink liquid inside. Wrinkling his nose at the odour, he handed it to Hermione.

"Hmm?" was the only response she could muster, tensing up as she tried to put on a breezy expression.

"Drink it, it'll ease the pain," he said quickly. Hermione seemed skeptical for a moment as her eyes betrayed the calm aura she exuded. Theodore's lips parted again. "You know, if I really wanted to hurt you, I would've already done so. I would've left you back there."

Hermione glanced at him, and then at the vial and back at him again. Grabbing it out of his hand swiftly, she saw his boyish little smirk again and downed the vial, nearly choking and sputtering from its horrid taste. It was even worse than the Polyjuice Potion she took back at Hogwarts when she transformed herself into Millicent Bulstrode's cat.

"Sorry, I know the taste is a little…" Theodore stuck his tongue out at the end of his sentence.

After licking her lips, Hermione gave him a triumphant grin and surprisingly felt the pain diminish.

"Thank you, Theo," was all she said.

"Okay, now let's check on your head, alright?" he asked rhetorically. She gave him no response but stepped closer to him this time with her hand against the wall to help with the balance. She flushed crimson when his fingers lifted her chin up just slightly and he removed some stray strands of hair that were falling over her face. If he kept this up much longer, she would've won an award for sure – The Reddest Tomato competition.

"So, you've got an awful lot of equipment here. You could heal a whole Quidditch team with the stuff you've got," she muttered, her eyes scanning the room before fixing her gaze back on Theodore's face again. He was concentrating, which was a good sign. She tried not to further redden her cheeks as she noticed his blue eyes narrow when he rubbed something gently over her wound. It hadn't helped with relieving the pain because she still felt a good deal of it. But sucking it up, she merely bit the inside of the cheek. She'd been through more pain than this before. In comparison, a little bump on the head was nothing, she told herself.

"Can't blame a wizard for having his own First Aid kit, right?" he replied finally, with a coy smile. He seemed a little nervous as he said that and Hermione took it as a sign that he was probably finished with her forehead.

Pulling away from him and running her index finger over where she expected there to be a bump on her head, she felt flatness, a firm, smooth flatness, and warmth. The tingle in her cheeks began to diminish as her eyes were fixed on Theodore's again, in which he smiled at her.

"Thank you," she said softly. "I don't really know how I can repay you. But I know that I should be off."

Now that she was all healed, there was no reason for her to stay! But even if she didn't stay, she didn't know where she could go. She couldn't just Floo back to Muggle London and take the bus or cab. She didn't even know what time it was and she didn't even have money on her. Surely, she'd overstayed her visit at Theodore's. He probably had to get back with his life, with _her_ out of it. They'd been through enough awkwardness today.

"No," he said hurriedly. He licked his lips and looked at her with his eyes widened. "You're staying the night whether you like it or not. You can't go anywhere at this time. I _insist_ that you stay."

"I…I don't know if that would be a wise decision," she stammered, pursing her lips in nervousness.

"Nonsense!" he answered her with a reassuring smile. "Mipsy can set up the guest room. You can get yourself washed and I'm sure we can deal with the wand issue tomorrow. Maybe at noon?"

Hermione opened her mouth for an answer, but immediately closed it. She would have _loved_ to stay. But she just realized that she had brunch with her mother tomorrow morning. The ladies hadn't even seen each other that often and it would have been a shame to miss it for something as simple as losing one's wand.

"Actually, I have somewhere to be tomorrow_ morning_," replied Hermione meekly. "And I don't think I'll be back at noon for a bit. I don't even know where you live, and frankly, I can't be in two places at once."

She hoped that she didn't sound too arrogant. But at least Theodore was giving her the time of day. Speaking with Ron like that would only earn her a slap in the face. Oh Ron…

"Are you sure about that? Where do you have to be?" he asked her hastily, shooting her a fleeting glance at the corner of his eye. He folded his arms across his chest like a responsible adult. Hermione sighed deeply at his nosiness. Couldn't a girl just get her way without having to spill every detail of her life to a complete stranger sometimes? It was bad enough having to stay at a stranger's house for the night. She wasn't completely trusting of him. But if he was going to hurt her, he would have done so already. And he hadn't. Theodore had been nothing but kind to her so far, so the least she could do would be to return the favour.

"My mum's, Theo. Brunch," she replied, hoping that her tone of voice wasn't too icy.

"I can go with you, if you'd like," he offered kindly. Hermione's eyebrows shot up immediately before she could open her mouth to respond. _Him_, with _her_, at brunch? That was a shocker. Kind of him to offer, but inviting oneself over to another's home wasn't exactly the best thing to do if you wanted to show someone you had manners.

Hermione gave him the most serene of smiles she could give him.

"Theo, you can't possibly expect…"

"Think of it as a way of _repaying_ me."

He said that with a wink and gave her another one of his boyish grins that all of a sudden, Hermione began to find annoying. _Merlin_, Theodore Nott was impossible! She couldn't even reject him before he disappeared, leaving her to stand there stupidly before Mipsy found her and guided her upstairs.


	11. Nightmares

Love Me Nott: by Mocktail

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing; these characters were created by J.K. Rowling. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_A/N: Guys, thanks for reading again. Any reviews/comments are greatly appreciated. If anything in my story insults you, then I apologize in advance. I'm not very knowledgeable on abusive relationships and things might get a tad awkward._

_

* * *

_CHAPTER 11: NIGHTMARES

Hermione's head reemerged from the last of the lilac-coloured foamy bubbles from her bath as she shivered, hugging her body as the scent of lavender began to fill her nostrils. Mipsy had only come in twice; once to bring her a towel and some clothes, and the second, to offer to wash her hair, which Hermione found hard to accept. She was always into the rights of Elves, but Mipsy seemed so hurt when Hermione refused. Also, she was surprised at how good she was, as embarrassed as it made her feel. She was the _guest_, not a bloody cripple, she thought; although she had to admit that the little House Elf was quite good with massaging the scalp and removing a bit of grime from her tresses.

She missed the warmth that was hugging her body from when she was still in the bathtub after she got out, rubbing her feet very slowly against the plush faded golden bath rug. She could hear the water filter away in the tub when she picked up a white towel and wrapped it around her cold, naked body. Shivering only slightly, she slipped into a pair of white slippers and padded quietly along the gray marble tiles of the bathroom, stopping right in front of the mirror that was fogged up. She quickly ran her hands over the condensation that was blanketed over the reflective surface and sighed as she closed her eyes, feeling relaxed all over until she saw a little pink blob in the mirror, image distorted by the droplets of water that were streaking down the surface. Letting out a high shriek, she clutched onto the counter before biting her lip instinctively.

"Miss, I is sorry!"

"Oh, Mipsy! It was just you. You certainly startled me back there."

She placed her hand over her chest with a faint blush in her cheeks.

"I is here to help Miss with her hair. You has no wand!" exclaimed the pink House Elf with smile plastered across her little face. Hermione blushed even more. Certainly, Mipsy had done enough for her already. Then again, she couldn't imagine being able to get any sleep with wet hair.

"Okay then, thanks," smiled Hermione.

While Mipsy was working on her slick, brown locks, Hermione began to get dressed while examining her figure in the mirror. Her reflection was in it, slightly distorted by the vapour and water droplets, and was cut off at her hip because of the counter. She sighed, feeling unconfident all of a sudden, remembering all the nights when she'd scrubbed herself red because of how disgusting and dirty she felt with herself every time Ron pulled one on her.

She tried to suppress a groan as she finished buttoning a loose white flannel shirt that surprisingly fit her well, other than the fact that the sleeves only ended about an inch above her wrist. She already had her pants on, which made her feel warm all over again. Running her fingers through her dry locks, she thanked Mipsy, who gave her a peculiar look before Disapparating.

Hermione was just going to try to have a good night's rest and deal with everything tomorrow. She yawned as she kicked off her slippers and made her way into the guest bedroom that was connected to the bathroom. She took in its surroundings with a peaceful look on her face. The walls were a warm taupe and the curtains that matched the bed sheets were so elegantly draped over the window, revealing only a tiny crack of the outside world. Her eyes further scanned the room, noticing pieces of parchment and a set of quills that were so neatly placed on a luxurious maple desk. There was a lamp with a couple of books beside it, as well as another bookshelf that Hermione knew better than to check. Really, she should've been more careful. But Theodore had rescued her tonight, and she could let that go. Of course, she'd still keep her guard up; there was no doubt about it. But while slipping into the satiny navy sheets, thoughts of that seemed to swirl away as soon as her head hit the pillow.

_"My little whore," spat Ron Weasley into the mirror as he checked his body out. He could hear Hermione fumbling about in the shower as the water went off. Dripping wet, she stepped out and onto the plush bath rug that was in front of her, on top of the tiles of the bathroom. It was _their_ house, but Hermione's bathroom. Ron had only decided to step in to torment her. Dressed in nothing but his long sweatpants, he glared at Hermione from the corner of his eye when she wrapped a towel around her body, her dark ringlets of hair falling into her face. She looked afraid, very afraid. And he would've loved to see her breakdown even more._

_"Ron, what –"_

_"Shut up, filth!"_

_She was immediately silenced as she stood there stupidly, waiting for her boyfriend's next command while water was dripping everywhere. With a roll of his eyes, Ron took out his wand and dried her up, but her towel remained fastened around her body. He sneered as he gave her a once over._

_"I'm inviting Amanda over today. Better make yourself scarce. I'd suggest you head over to the Burrow," he drawled, turning up his nose as his cold, blue eyes were fixed upon Hermione's body. He wasn't going to look her in the eye. She was avoiding his gaze already. It was always her fault. She made him who he was today!_

_"Okay," murmured Hermione, with a gulp._

_Oh how she'd fallen from grace! Back at Hogwarts, she'd never let anyone speak to her like that._

_"And Hermione?" he began, with a certain sharpness in his voice._

_"Y-yeah?" she replied._

_"You better not tell them a thing, or else," he seethed, with his hands on his hips before shooting her a fleeting glance. He returned to gazing in the mirror, his cold, blue eyes as steely as ever. He then turned to her for a second. "Don't even think about dragging Harry and Ginny into this. They'd _never_ believe the words of filth like you."_

_Hermione tried her best to contain her tears, but they were just gushing out of her eyes now. They formed two perfect streaks on either side of her face, from her watery brown eyes. But she was going to cry silently even though on the outside, she was shaking like a leaf. Ron didn't like the tears, but he also loved seeing her break down. So half the time, she didn't know what response he would've liked. But she hated it. She hated it so much when he made her go through everything. He'd just cast her aside like an old toy and then pull her back into the picture later when he was bored. She'd wake up in the morning with aches all over her body, hardly able to move, but would always have to. Her words would jumble up and her thoughts would freeze._

_Most of the time, she looked like death warmed over. But there were spells for that._

_"Okay," squeaked Hermione, sniffling. As that one, small sniffle came out, she immediately regretted it. Her eyes widened as she stepped back closer to the shower. She just wanted to hit her head against the wall and pass out._

-

"Master Theodore! Master Theodore!" piped Mipsy as she jumped about in Theodore's dark room. The lights were out and the curtains were drawn shut. It was the middle of the night, for Merlin's sake. What was Mipsy doing jumping around and in _his_ bedroom at this hour? He groaned and sat up before his House Elf gestured about wildly, flailing her arms around and leaping from each side of his bed. He could hardly feel it though.

_Ah, the perks of having a good quality mattress._

"What is it?" he finally asked, his eyes hooded as they tried to focus on the pink House Elf.

"Miss Granger! It's Miss Granger! She is screaming!" exclaimed the House Elf hurriedly. As soon as Theodore heard that, he scrambled out of bed made a mad dash for the other side of the hall. With each step he took, he cursed at the thought of having a house guest so far away – so far away that he couldn't even hear her screams.

Merlin, what was happening?

-

"Hermione! What in bloody Merlin is going on?" exclaimed Theodore loudly as he panted and nearly tore the guest room door down. He could hear her whimpering on the bed, tossing and turning. Luckily, she wasn't on the floor squirming about, but she looked crazy, as if she was in some kind of seizure as she shouted various phrases that he couldn't make out.

"Miss was like that for very long. Mipsy could not wake her!" exclaimed the pink House Elf with a worried expression painted all over her face. Her big eyes bulged as Theodore turned away from her, stepping closer to Hermione's shaking frame. "What should Mipsy do?"

Her voice came out like a nervous squeak, laced with hesitation and indecision. Theodore analyzed the situation. Hermione was safe, it was just a nightmare. He then nodded, "Warm water, and get the lights, please."

Within half a second, the room was bathed in a dim, but warm orange glow. The shadows of Hermione's slowed thrashing danced across the walls. Theodore had pulled up a chair and sat beside her, watching her. He studied the way her brown hair was fanned around her head on the pillow, with a couple of strands over her forehead. His dark blue eyes scanned her face, and the way her eyebrows themselves furrowed together. Her pink lips were paler than usual, like the colour of a creamy pink that blended all too well with her skin. They seemed to be dry and slightly pursed together. The expression on her face was a mixture of relaxation and fear. The warm glow of the light kissed her skin and disappeared as the shadows of the other side crept over the contours of her face. Beautiful, but sad at the same time. Tentatively, he leaned forward and stroked her cheek, marveling at how the shadow of his fingers moved across her skin. She reacted with a soft sigh, where her lips parted slightly. Her arms stilled and the atmosphere of panic from before seemed to have died down. Her legs gave one final kick under the sheets, and she rolled away from the light with an annoyed groan.

_At least she's calming down._

He pulled away immediately when he heard the soft pop of the House Elf return.

"Thank you, Mipsy," he said kindly without turning his head over. His eyes were still rested on Hermione's sleeping form. Mipsy nodded and made her way over to Hermione's other side, holding a mug of warm water in both hands as if it were blessed or sacred.

"What is Mipsy to do?" she queried quietly.

"Perhaps…" the words died on his lips as he sighed. He could have just left her be. It was just a nightmare, after all. She'd live. His skin was flushed as he rested his back against his seat and stretching his arms over his head. He was able to catch his breath after the little stint with Hermione.

-

_"Why are you back already?" snarled Ron as he stood up. His eyes narrowed as he gave her a once over, eyes stopping at her trembling lips. Hermione took one timid step forward and stood her ground while her lips were pursed shut. Now, if only she could stop them from quivering like a baby leaf…_

_"I…" she faltered. She bit her lip and continued, "Amanda's gone, right?"_

_Her voice came out weakly. Ah, Dumbledore would not have been proud at all. The Gryffindor lion seemed to have lost her growl. It was displeasing. Hermione Granger, the great heroine – a silent victim of an abusive relationship? Surely, that would never make headlines. Ron Weasley had made sure of that. No, she was one wounded lioness, living her days as a lamb._

_"Yes, but only via Floo a few minutes ago," he replied viciously. Hermione took in his appearance quickly, noticing his wrinkled jeans and shirt, the buttons buttoned in the wrong place. She thought she felt her heart quiver. The tears stung her eyes, but she was going to make sure that she'd cry when she was out of his view. She wasn't going to show him her tears. Emotions could be so useless sometimes. They could hurt so much, be so vengeful, bitter and merciless. She chewed her lip and looked down at her feet, pretending to be interested in the little speckle of dirt that was spattered over the top of her pink and white flats._

_She could feel him moving closer to her now. It was a feeling she had grown accustomed to. He was surrounding her, and she felt her body respond to him fearfully. She bit her lip, tugged the sleeves of her sweater and even let some of her brown hair fall in her face. Her feet were placed beside one another in the daintiest fashion. She let out a breath that she didn't even know she was holding in._

_"Hermione..."_

_She felt a warmth cup her body, nearly burning her. The feeling was so hard to ignore, and so hard to fight. It was horribly intense. She gritted her teeth as a breath of air escaped her lips. She winced as her hand hit something._

"Hermione!"

Her eyes fluttered open to find the source of the sound. She looked around her, nearly in a state of panic. She looked around in a room that looked nothing like home. The soft sheets around her were a messy pool – like an ocean of dark blue where the wrinkles and ripples were the waves and tsunamis she'd swam away from in her sleep. But now the horizon had emerged from the sea and all was serene. She stared at her shadow on the wall of the room, created by the effects of the light. It seemed to calm her down slightly before she remembered why she was here, and where she even was. She swallowed hard. Her eyebrows furrowed before recalling what happened before she went to bed. It was just a nightmare.

"Miss Hermione was shaking in her sleep! Master Theodore and Mipsy come see you!" exclaimed the House Elf with worry. Her big eyes grew even larger as her face moved so closely to Hermione's that she thought she might faint. Hermione suppressed a squeal of surprise and fear at the same time. After taking a deep breath, she felt a wave of humiliation wash over her. She couldn't help but feel embarrassed that Theodore and Mipsy had come to her because she was having a stupid nightmare. Then again, if someone hadn't woken her up, she would've gone through with _it_. Going through the same thing twice – especially something like_ that_ wasn't one's favourite thing to do.

She sniffled as her cheeks felt warm and wet at the same time. She took the sleeve of her top and wiped it against her face, glancing up ever so slightly to see a worried Theodore Nott standing up and looming over her. His pajamas were wrinkled, and looked a lot like what Hermione was wearing now, only in Slytherin green. Her eyes briefly met his. She thought she saw something, but it only disappeared after he blinked. His face seemed to say something, but Hermione couldn't quite decipher the hidden message before his beautiful face. The dim light had created effects and shadows over his cheekbones, lips and nose. She studied that to make herself feel better, but not even ogling over someone else's beauty was going to take away the awkwardness that surrounded them. The air around them was buzzing with discomfort and a dead hype of worry. The room seemed to be the hollow husk of once that was filled with shaking and squirming. It was the aftermath – just pure silence.

Theodore decided to kill it by parting his lips.

"You were having a nightmare and shaking," he stated quite emotionlessly.

Hermione tried not to blush, but she couldn't help it. Obviously, she knew _that_. Looking shamefully down at her wrinkled sheets, which seemed to be mocking her, she licked her dry lips and pouted like a child. She could feel dark blue eyes singeing her and burning against her skull. His gaze really was that powerful. Then again, it may have been the feeling of humiliation that stung instead of his eyes.

She hugged her knees and self-consciously pulled the covers over her body. Mipsy handed her the mug of water Theodore asked for earlier. Without thanking the House Elf, she took a sip, but was unable to even feel the quench of her thirst. Her mind was focused elsewhere. Out of the corner of Hermione's eyes, she could notice the visibly shaking House Elf taking the mug from out of her hand when she was finished. She refrained from commenting. It wasn't as if she was going to abuse the poor thing. With a deep sigh, she sniffed and buried her face into the warm navy sheets over her thighs. She took another deep breath. With her eyes closed, all she could see were blurs of red hair and a mouth that was like a train on an endless track of insults. That was when Theodore's voice punctured the silence once more.

"Do you need some Dreamless Slee –"

Hermione's lips parted in a muffle as she cut him off.

"Please."


	12. Questions

Love Me Nott: by Mocktail

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing; these characters were created by J.K. Rowling. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_A/N: Guys, thanks for reading again. Any reviews/comments are greatly appreciated. _

_

* * *

_CHAPTER 12: QUESTIONS

"You didn't have to come with me, you know," huffed Hermione as she folded her arms across her chest. She crossed her legs on the seats of the double-decker bus she was sitting in. It was virtually empty other than the driver and one other passenger. Pretending to be fascinated by the bright yellow poles of the bus, she avoided Theodore's gaze.

"I know _that_, but I wanted to. Think of it as a way of repayment," he grinned.

She was still embarrassed after last night's spectacle. She turned away from him further and glanced outside the windows of the bus. The weather was fairly overcast with only a few rays of sunlight peeking through the colourless clouds that hung in the sky. A couple of children accompanied by their mother were strolling along hurriedly to cross the road while a blind man's dog was barking loudly. She turned away from the window and then looked down at her knees. The silence was slowly gnawing away at her. All she could hear were the sounds of the bus' engine whirring and the occasional clatter of litter that rolled from side to side of the bus.

Finally, she opened her mouth.

"A simple option would have been to let me Apparate _us_ there with your wand," she whispered, her brown eyes studying Theodore's face for any expression. He looked amused by her words, as if she'd just cracked the joke of the century.

"There are a number of problems with that, Hermione," he began, as if he were lecturing her. The brunette sitting beside him refrained from rolling her eyes, but merely kept her lips pursed together in a thin line and waiting for him to finish his response. "First of all, the wand chooses its wizard and you'd most likely get splinched in the process of Apparating. Next, it's _my_ wand and who…"

She zoned out from there, trying her hardest not to fall asleep. Of course she knew that there was the possibility of getting splinched while using his wand. It wasn't like he'd actually trust her with it anyways. She wasn't that thick, she was merely pointing something out. Just because he'd lent her a guest room, it didn't mean they were close friends. She winced in her selfishness, but also in Theodore's obstinacy. She could clearly ride to her mother's place on her own! She didn't need a chaperone, whether she had to "repay" him or not. She was not some helpless Rapunzel waiting for her prince or a Sleeping Beauty waiting for that special kiss. She was plain old Hermione Granger. _The_ plain old Hermione Granger.

"So, we're on good terms again?"

He looked at her with great peculiarity. Hermione visibly tensed as she looked back at him. There was a look of confusion on her face for a second there, of great discomfort. But she gave him an uneasy smile, exuding only a bit of warmth from her pink lips.

"Sure," she said nonchalantly.

-

Theodore ran his fingers through his black hair with a low whistle escaping his lips. A sharp intake of air would have been better, but Hermione ignored what he thought of her mother's home. It was always _her_ home, of course. She grew up there. Everything she believed in as a little girl, and she'd always remember; the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, and all the wonderful holiday festivities she and her family shared in her childhood. She tried not to tear up from the thoughts of what she reminisced so often.

"Welcome," she told him, making her voice sound as horrible as ever. It sounded like a croak combined with a cough. She felt as horrible as her voice did. With her hair being whisked up by the breeze, the weak scent of lavender filled Theodore's nostrils. His eyes were drawn to the house that stood before them.

It was a quaint little thing; just the right size for a small family. The only problem was that it looked quite uninhabitable, at least to a pureblood like him. The grass was a straw-like yellow-green from the fierce rays of the sun. Jean Granger hadn't bothered to get into the habit of gardening after the death of her husband. It just wasn't the same. Wilted flowers sat in the clay-like soil of the flowerbed, surrounded by chalky stones. A couple of shrubs that were once perfectly pruned and a beautiful emerald green were now disproportional and browned. A few vines crept up the side of the brick house ending short of a few windows where curtains hung on the other side. The house's front door was painted a warm and welcoming taupe, as were the two garage doors that sat at the end of the old cement driveway, cracking with white lines that were pressed into the somewhat sloped ground.

"Shall we go in?" queried Theodore. He cleared his throat and studied Hermione's expression. He was impressed that she wasn't embarrassed at all by the condition of the house that stood before them. Most of the pureblood aristocracy would have frowned upon such a thing. Perhaps Hermione really didn't care. That, or she was cross with him for inviting himself over. It was a stupid thing to do, not to mention impolite. He knew that much. But Hermione seemed to have built so many walls around herself. He'd only seen a glimpse of how weak she was last night and he was intrigued. She seemed to have been able to rebuild the walls so quickly, brushing everything off with either a rude remark or a piercing gaze.

He followed the brunette up a few steps to the front door and took a deep breath. From behind the door, he could hear shuffling about and footsteps, but he brushed it off quickly. Hermione looked moody beside him and her lips parted as she looked at him with narrowed brown eyes, "Not to be rude or anything, Theo, but I'd really prefer it if you didn't come in. My mother and I –"

Hermione looked away from him as the door flew open, with a very surprised Jean Granger looking at her only daughter. Her mother was dressed in a loose dark plum shirt, a pair of gray jeans and her favourite pair of fuzzy red slippers. Her gray-streaked dirty blonde hair was up in a bun and black headband, showing off her dazzling bone structure that had clearly run in the family.

"My dear!" she exclaimed.

She embraced her daughter tightly with a bright smile on her face before pulling back to take a good look at the male that stood beside her. He looked somewhat nervous and disturbed; not by Hermione's mother, but by the fact that he knew that he wasn't supposed to be here. Hermione had asked him to leave, and would have finished the request if it weren't for the door that had swung open. He took a deep breath as he inhaled the scent of a glorious brunch. It smelled like sausages, eggs and toast. Emotions swept over him for a moment. He never had anyone cook for him other than House Elves or restaurant chefs. It depressed him, certainly, and he hadn't quite figured this out yet, but Hermione had so much to be grateful for, she just never noticed as she wallowed in her pessimism and mood swings. Glancing over at her, who had an expectant look on her face; his eyes darted towards Jean Granger. Pools of misty brown just stared back at him.

"And who's this?" she asked, with a somewhat surprised little grin plastered across her aging face. Hermione muttered something under her breath but her mother didn't seem to notice. Theodore's lips thinned.

"Theo," croaked Hermione evenly, failing to meet any of their gazes.

"Why don't you two come in first?" grinned Jean, with the same silly grin. "We can talk more about this later."

_Whatever this was._

Hermione licked her dry lips in annoyance and let Theodore walk in first. It would have been rude to interrupt and say that he wasn't welcome. But by now, she was expecting that he'd walk himself out. He didn't need to be told twice. Yes, she was thankful for what he had done for her, but the business and mother-daughter relationship between her and Jean was _strictly_ between them. Theodore would have been invading her privacy! He was already doing that by standing in her childhood home. She bit her lip as she watched her mother walk off momentarily. She ignored Theodore's surprised glances he threw around the foyer. The two of them walked past the staircase that would lead up to Hermione's childhood bedroom, which was left untouched since she moved out. There was a black Pembroke table against the ivory-coloured wall. A few picture frames were spread across it, with a tiny bowl of potpourri. Hermione dipped her fingers into the mignonette leaves and cinnamon bark before shifting a small vial of rose oil closer to the bowl. Theodore stood behind her as he watched the expression on her face change from something passive, to something with great emotion.

He followed her gaze that was rested on a bronze and black picture frame that held an image of a younger Hermione Granger cuddling up on a sofa with her parents. They looked so carefree and happy. Hermione was squished in between them, and they all held hands and leaned into each other for the shot. Theodore dared not to step closer to study the details of the photo, but merely stood there and watched Hermione chew on her bottom lip. When her eyes met his, he almost felt a spark. She looked away immediately and the mask of indifference was in effect once more.

The two of them strolled past a room with a luxurious grand piano and a glass table with calla lilies and a couple of books. Hermione was unresponsive to any comment that Theodore had put out since they walked in; about how nice the place looked, or how he liked the flowers and books that he saw. She'd shrug and waited until Jean returned. They waited for a torturous amount of time before her mother stepped back in with a bright smile on her face.

"Oh Theo, I'm sorry for not introducing myself earlier. I'm Jean," she grinned. Theodore shook her outstretched hand with what he thought was a confident smile on his face. "Won't you join us for brunch today? It's been ages since Herm –"

"_Mum_, that's quite enough," muttered Hermione rudely. Theodore was taken aback by how she'd cut her mother off, but regained his composure quickly enough that nobody noticed his few seconds of shock. Jean, however, didn't take it too lightly and gave her daughter a look. There were some things that Theodore just wasn't supposed to know. Hermione couldn't have cared less about what he thought of her, she'd told herself that a couple times already.

But what _would_ Jean have said if Hermione hadn't cut her off? Theodore wondered about that. Hermione definitely knew what she was going to say. Her mother constantly pestered her about her non-existent love life. Oh, she didn't think that she and _Theodore_ were together, did she? She winced at the thought of that. Her thoughts were disturbed by a voice that punctured the silence.

"Actually, I'm deeply sorry, Mrs. Granger, Hermione…but I must go," said Theodore with a low rumble in his voice. Hermione turned to face him for a moment with a strange look on her face. Jean looked ready to refuse. And to nobody's surprise, she did.

"Oh Theo, I do hope I do not sound too forward. But I must object," remarked Jean, her big eyes growing bigger by the second. She seemed to have a hint of desperation in her voice, masked by sweetness and a dazzling smile.

The tension and awkwardness in the air could be cut with a blunt knife. Hermione's mother was being way too forward, and Hermione herself wasn't in her best mood. Theodore should have walked away. This wasn't his business. He was only here to make sure that Hermione arrived safely. And seeing her discomfort swell around him had only given him more incentive to leave.

"Mum…"

"My dear, you never told me you had a boyfriend."

"He's not –"

"_Honey_, really. Don't be so embarrassed. We should talk about this over brunch. I promise you, Theo. My cooking is quite delicious, as I've heard many times by Hermione herself."

She ushered the two of them into the kitchen, a spacious environment with olive green walls and a round glass table with plates in the center. Theodore took in the scent and sight nervously. There were bagels, toast, porridge, sausages and anything that would have made him usually drool. But he didn't. It smelled delicious, but almost too tempting. He should have left a while ago. He could sense Hermione's anger with him and instantly felt a stab of guilt when Jean pulled out a dark and velvety chair for him.

_If she's so mad, why can't she just tell her mother we're not together?_

The two of them took their seat beside each other, across from Jean. Theodore knew that this was a deliberate action. Hermione looked less than happy to be caught up in their current predicament. But Jean was the exact opposite. She was ecstatic, pleased, thrilled beyond words. She had her hands clasped together and her fingers laced as she looked back and forth from a miserable Hermione to a nervous Theodore. The scent of breakfast had grown increasingly faint to him when Hermione stood up to bring out an extra set of dining ware for Theodore. She strolled off to the cupboards for a second and all Theodore could do was stare ahead at her mother. He noticed how time had aged her quite quickly, with a few wrinkles on the edges of her eyes. Her smile was still youthful, taking off years of stress and unhappiness. But when she didn't smile, she must have looked miserable. It pained him to think of her in such a way…and he didn't even know her.

When Hermione returned, the dining ware clattered against the glass in a shrill, but subdued tone. The white mug placed in front of him was being filled with tea by Jean Granger, who was treating him like the perfect guest. Oh, if this was the type of repayment he'd earn, he would have rejected to step into the house in the first place. The silence around him was nearly unbearable and the rage that radiated from Hermione made him grow increasingly tense. She was sure to blow up on him later. He wasn't too worried about that, but more about how she'd feel about him now, and how guilty he'd feel after leaving their home.

To liven up the atmosphere, Jean's supple pink mouth opened to start a conversation.

"So how did you two meet?" she gushed, like a teenage girl.

Hermione tensed up more as she took a sip of her tea; so much that her hand was shaking. She was clearly not going to respond. No matter, Jean's eyes were fixed on Theodore anyways. He bit into his buttered bagel and could hardly taste the usual salty, pleasant taste that butter had to offer. He knew that it must not have been the cooking, but the fact that his tongue hadn't even reacted to the warm tea. The grains of bread felt like ash in his mouth, and the milky, creamy feeling of butter only felt like bubbling, tasteless oil. He swallowed, but his throat was dry.

"Hogwarts," murmured Hermione finally, her voice about an octave lower than usual. She refused to look up from her plate, but Jean nodded knowingly at the two of them.

_So he's a wizard._

"You two were friends?" queried Jean once more, with great curiosity. Hermione's throat made a noise and it was Theodore's turn to answer.

"No, we weren't," he replied, his voice dangerously close to cracking in uneasiness.

He took another bite of his bagel, but the same tastelessness remained. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, even though he had a false smile on his face. He was perplexed over how Jean could've been easily fooled into thinking that he and Hermione were together. Even though she had tried to object to the idea, she still believed they were together when they hadn't even interacted in the way a couple should. But who was _he_ to say how a couple should have acted around each other? He'd had his fair share of failed relationships.

"I see, then how –"

"Excuse me."

Hermione stood up from her seat and she felt two pairs of eyes on her in shock and surprise. She looked absolutely miserable and Theodore only noticed now how the colour was drained from her cheeks and her lips were a thin line. Her eyes were downcast and her tresses fell into her face. Her shoulders sagged and her back was arched. Was he responsible for all this? An innocent gesture replaced with one that acted the complete opposite? He hardly noticed that Jean nodded at her daughter, who was now pacing slowly in the direction of the loo.

Trying to make a conversation, he asked the Granger matriarch curiously, "So, where's Mr. Granger today?"

Before Jean could answer, he noticed that her happy and jovial expression transformed into one of gloom and sadness. He hadn't seen someone switch off like that unless the reason was so horrible. What Jean currently felt in her heart was directly mirrored with the expression painted on her face. Theodore desperately wanted to wipe it off. He bit his lip before hearing a loud slam of the bathroom door. He tried not to wince at the noise, but took a deep breath before the cold reality crashed down upon him.

_Oh Merlin_.


	13. Answers

Love Me Nott: by Mocktail

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing; these characters were created by J.K. Rowling. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_A/N: Guys, thanks for reading again. Any reviews/comments are greatly appreciated. Ha, I don't know if this should be considered a joke or not. But if you hadn't noticed, the previous chapter was titled "Questions" and this one "Answers". Yeah, I know. It's not funny. Oh, also, I watched HBP and was underwhelmed. The end._

_

* * *

_CHAPTER 13: ANSWERS

Theodore flushed a deep shade of crimson after the realization hit him. Of course, he should have seen the signs! There was Hermione, looking as distressed as ever staring at the family photograph, and then the tension that flowed around them. The pang of guilt that bubbled up inside of him made his entire body numb against the seat. He bit his lip in the most childish way and looked away from Jean in the same bashfulness he had at Hogwarts when he'd accidentally knocked a young Ravenclaw down the stairs so badly he'd broken his nose. Only this time, the fear for another's safety was replaced with the fear of his own. That, and the Grangers, whom he'd hardly knew.

He felt an instant connection to them. Clearly, most people had lost someone during the war. But it only became more evident to him now that Hermione must have been more sensitive. He knew that his own father died, that Draco's father died, and many of the other Slytherin patriarchs died as well. But they were Death Eaters. Some of them had truly deserved to die. But despite the fact that they were all fragments of evil personified; or little puppets on the strings played by the most villainous creature that ever hit mankind, they were still fathers. At the end of the day, it was _them_ that had given their sons and daughters everything they could; monetarily, that is. They were still torturous, evil, violent, pureblood fanatics that relished in nothing more than to rid the world of anyone with a drop of Muggle blood flowing in their veins.

Theodore could relate to the Grangers in such a way that they'd lost a part of their family – a part that may not have necessarily deserved to die like the Death Eaters. He knew that when his own father died, he'd felt numb. It was only the next day that emotions coursed through him. He hated his father, but deep down inside there was still a bit of love for him. It was rather quick to get over though. He'd already lost the only person in the world who loved him – his mother. Only, he had more time to accept it and try to let it go. Heck, his father hadn't even left photographs or paintings around. That way, Theodore would have never known how his mother looked like. The earliest and only memory he had of her of a child of only one or two years old was her glossy dark chestnut hair that fell into his small face, and those smiling blue eyes that fluttered closed when she kissed his tiny mouth.

"Theo?" murmured Jean, for the umpteenth time. There was a peculiar expression on her face that by now, replaced the sadness that was once splashed around it. Theodore instantly felt the numbness of his body disappear when she gave him a crooked smile.

"I must apologize, Mrs. Granger. I seem to have zoned out," he said quietly, meeting her gaze. His voice then became more hushed. "I also must apologize for my previous question. It was very thoughtless of me."

"Please, call me Jean," she responded with a deep sigh. Despite the fact that her eyes were watery, she still flashed him the briefest of smiles. "And as for the question, it's quite fine. Richard's been deceased for a few years now."

Theodore considered looking down at his knees and respond, but that would have been disrespectful and insulting. He looked up into her eyes.

"I'm very sorry to hear," he said genuinely, kindness laced in his voice.

"No more apologies, Theo. If anyone's to apologize, it's me," sighed Jean quickly. Her eyes were fixed on Theodore's for the longest time until she looked down at the table and placed her hands around her tea. She let the warmth fill her body and course through her veins before continuing, making her feel somewhat recharged.

"Mrs. Gr – Jean, I don't understand," said Theodore.

Jean let out the deepest of sighs, not out of Theodore's lack of knowledge for the reason, but for herself and for her loving daughter.

"Perhaps we should discuss this while my daughter isn't at the table," she said, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. She took a sip of her tea and proceeded to have the long talk she never thought she'd have to have.

"Hermione," he murmured, her name rolling off his tongue rather mysteriously. Surely, she would not have been as forgiving as her mother. He thought it was fairly obvious, judging by her outrage.

"Yes," sighed Jean, with a lopsided smile on her face. "You see, she's always been rather uptight. I'm sure you must have noticed at some point during the relationship."

He couldn't help but feel embarrassed. He was going to have to choose his words wisely if he still wanted his head. He cleared his throat self-consciously and tried to keep his voice from faltering.

"At some point, perhaps," he answered. His voice was rather neutral, he mentally noted.

"Yes, well…Hermione hasn't had a boyfriend for years. Not since that Weasley boy," murmured Jean. Her face grew pale for a second, and her usual friendly gaze was replaced with a hollow stare that made Theodore's blood freeze momentarily. She chose her next words more carefully and said them in a breezier manner. "But surely, she must have told you."

He felt another pang of guilt. First, for invading on Hermione's private life, and then trying to make matters worse by trying to make them better! But the _Weasley_ boy? Surely, she hadn't meant Ron Weasley, the redhead; Harry Potter's best friend? He must have known at some point that they were together. But all he knew of Ron was that he'd grown haughty. Occasionally were articles published in the Daily Prophet regarding him and his new girlfriends, but he wasn't much of a glutton for gossip. His eyes fell on Jean's expectant smile, and he felt that the guilt fizzling in his belly was going to come out his mouth. He felt a wave of nausea and he was sure that it wasn't the food.

"No, she hasn't mentioned it to me," he replied as casually as he could.

Jean sighed in response, placing two fingers at one of her temples, massaging as gently as she could. It emphasized the lines that seamed her face with age and Theodore suddenly wondered if Hermione would look the same when she grew older. Maybe with a more miserable presence, he thought absently.

"Well, let's just say that he was unfaithful to her and since their split, she's had trust issues – though I can't see how or why it could have affected her on such a level. She cannot tolerate lies or anything of the sort. It's why she might have such an uninviting presence at times. It's her…d-defense and coping mechanism. I m-must say, it makes her more distant than it shields her," whispered Jean emotionlessly. Theodore's throat felt dry.

"That, I have noticed," he commented bluntly.

"Yes, and I must apologize if you must put up with that," nodded Jean. She swallowed hard.

Theodore thought he heard a click after Jean's statement.

"No more apologies, _Jean_," he murmured. Saying her first name out loud made him feel rather self-conscious. "I believe Hermione will be rejoining us soon."

-

Hermione tore away from Theodore after Apparating to Diagon Alley, not caring if she was splinched or not. She didn't want to be within five meters of him and if it weren't for the fact that he was the key to getting her wand back, she would've hexed him into oblivion already. How dare he invade her personal life and not take the hint! She felt as if the little bubble she built around herself was on the verge of bursting, and she couldn't afford to give in now. Absolutely nobody was allowed to see her weak like that. Merlin, it'd been five years since she was strengthening the walls of her castle and it took literally, five minutes for Theodore to ruin her metaphorical stonemasonry.

"Alright," sighed Theodore, closing his eyes for a second. He stepped closer to her, first looking around cautiously to see if they were under any prying eyes. Not that he could notice any, but his attention was immediately returned to the stubborn Gryffindor before him. He felt guilty enough. Surely, an apology would not fully compensate for what he'd done.

Hermione didn't respond. Instead, she had her eyes narrowed and fixed on a spot on the ground, pretending to be fascinated by its sheer boredom. Theodore took a deep breath and scratched the back of his neck. He knew Hermione was being childish, and he also knew that _she_ knew she was being childish. What he also knew was that she wanted him to say something – to explain, so she could overanalyze, judge, and pinpoint his every mistake. And he supposed that he had no choice _but_ to fall pretty to that type of treatment.

"I wanted to leave," he began softly, leaning against a brick wall behind him for support. "But I saw Jean, you know?"

No response.

He continued, trying to rephrase his words, "So I'm not blaming her here. But she looked pleased to have me. I really _did_ insist at first to leave. And I wasn't _trying_ to pry in on your private life…even though I did. And you know that I apologize for that, Hermione."

No response.

His teeth grounded against each other momentarily. What else could he say? What else did this woman want him to say? Did she want him to kneel on the ground and beg for forgiveness? The thought of that made his blood boil.

"So, I'm very sorry, Hermione. And you know, it didn't turn out so badly. I got along quite well with Jean," he said rather flatly. He knew that he was going on a ramble, but he didn't care about that. "And if you stuck around a little longer, maybe the tension would have diffused. You walking out on us –"

"Was my way of coping, okay?" snapped Hermione. Her eyes were watery and narrowed in fury. A fiery brown met a cool dark blue. The tension around them was blistering. Her lips were parted and her cheeks were rouged with the heat of the moment. Theodore took a deep breath and mentally counted to ten, knowing that Hermione must have been doing the exact same thing. He was thinking back to Jean's words. He wasn't going to lose out to his temper.

_"Yes," sighed Jean, with a lopsided smile on her face. "You see, she's always been rather uptight. I'm sure you must have noticed at some point during the relationship."_

"Then it's good that you coped…but right after you came back out, you looked like you wanted to kill me. Honestly, Hermione…I'm sorry. There's not much else I can do," he said, in a more sincere tone of voice.

The brunette that stood before him gave him the most sarcastic of grins. She licked her dry lips and actually _smiled_ at him. She then proceeded to take a deep breath before shaking her head and looking down at her feet with an amused expression.

"No, I know that. But I realized that she must've told you something about me," she nodded. She knew how much more open her mother was about things.

"Well, aren't you a woman of excuses?" he said all of a sudden, becoming more empowered by Hermione's amusement. He saw her expression change immediately. She bit her lip and a warm breath of air escaped her lips. She was clearly annoyed.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" she asked rudely. She folded her arms across her chest. Now, it was Theodore's turn to let out his thoughts. He felt guilty enough from earlier and although he wasn't expecting instant forgiveness, he wasn't expecting this type of attitude. It irritated him further about how uptight Hermione could be.

"You're a bookworm, Hermione. I think you'd know," he smirked.

"You don't even know me. Stop pretending you do. You saw me in a moment of weakness, and now I'm back," retorted Hermione, shaking her head. Some brown strands of hair fell into her face. Theodore grew increasingly annoyed at her attitude.

"A moment of weakness? I felt sympathy for you, Hermione. And I'm sorry that you had to go through what you did. And of course I don't know you. You put up a wall around yourself and make up excuses to avoid getting things done. How, for Merlin's sake, would you expect me to know you? You have preconceived notions about everyone and everything. And if I may be so bold to say, I'd even say that you are a coward. You call yourself a Gryffindor?" he responded, his voice rising. He wasn't concentrating on Hermione's feelings at the moment. Surely, she must've been feeling crushed, but he couldn't tell what she was feeling from the void expression plastered on her face. "You're playing the victim as well, and sometimes, I think that you're a glutton for punishment, or some sort of masochist."

No response. He stepped closer to her, daring her to look at him, in which she did. He noticed for a moment how she was putting up a fight. How her lips were supple and pursed, but how her eyes were fixed on his. For a fleeting second, he wondered what would happen if he captured her mouth with his own. But this wasn't a time for that. He wanted to shove her against the wall and shake realization into her.

His voice softened slightly, and he sounded gentle, but cynical at the same time. He was so close to her that he could feel Hermione's short breaths on his face. "And you pretend that everything is fine. You put on a mask, but I've seen it off a couple times, and I see a distressed little child. Why is it that Jean can even try to grasp onto happiness, but you won't even dare to take a glimpse of the other side?"

He saw an instant flash of anger in her eyes, but it disappeared just as quickly as it came. It was not just his words that had elicited such a reaction, but the truth behind it that she had no desire to see.


	14. Headlines

Love Me Nott: by Mocktail

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing; these characters were created by J.K. Rowling. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_A/N: Guys, thanks for reading again. Any reviews/comments are greatly appreciated. I apologize for the slow updating. Although this message should have been put out in the earlier chapters, this chapter, along with the next few, had been pre-written until I realized that it was lame and thus, I had to rewrite and twist around the plot a bit._

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_CHAPTER 14: HEADLINES

Draco Malfoy lounged in his living room, ankles crossed, with his feet resting on the coffee table as he took a sip of his tea and eyed the front cover of the Daily Prophet with an interested expression on his face. With his headache subsided, he was able to recline comfortably on his couch, trying hard to recall the events of last night. What seemed like such a blur to him was made even blurrier in the morning when he found a familiar looking wand in his study. It was the too familiar wand that he remembered from Hogwarts. The one that belonged to the fiery witch who slugged him in their third year.

As he placed his mug back on the table, his eyes scanned the front cover of the newspaper again, a guilty smirk plagued his delicate features. He looked relatively unmarred from last night after getting cleaned up. His hair was slick from his morning shower, spiked up in an oddly appealing manner.

Before he could skim the contents of the article splashed on the front page, he heard a thumping noise before him. Looking up in his disturbed state, his eyes fell upon Theodore Nott and Hermione Granger, noticing that the latter was dressed in the same dress from last night. They stood in front of his fireplace, looking cold and angry with each other, and emotionally different. Theodore merely sulked, trying to keep up a cool demeanor, while Hermione looked as impassive as his father on good days. He felt an odd, chilly vibe that emanated from them. The corner of his lips quirked up as he tossed the Daily Prophet onto the coffee table with a short slam, uncrossed his ankles, and stood up in his half-naked glory.

Hermione's vacant brown eyes began to be filled in by Draco's image – slick, blonde hair spiked up, smooth skin, him topless and toned, with a pair of dark gray pants that hung low on his hips. Her lips were still as tightly pursed as before, with the same empty expression. Any other female would have fallen at his feet, but Hermione seemed uninterested, while she flicked a bit of ash from her shoulder coolly, as if he had no effect on her.

Instead of a normal greeting, Draco got testy. Whatever caused the awkward tension around them, it must have been his fault if they were to drop in on _his_ place of all places.

"Like what you see?" he chimed. His friendly eyes met her cold ones and Theodore stood there nearly dumbfounded by his statement. Hermione nearly snorted out loud from his accusation.

"On the contrary, _Malfoy_, I am only present for the retrieval of my wand," she replied dryly. Draco frowned at how she used his last name. Hermione didn't seem to notice as she cocked up an eyebrow. "Besides, I quote you, 'you little slut, I don't want to sleep with you.'"

The blonde Slytherin looked absolutely stunned, while Theodore's face paled. His gaze switched between his friend and the pretty girl every few seconds.

"Whatever do you mean?" croaked Draco, for a minute there hating the witch's guts for a moment.

"You must be unfamiliar with what transpired between us last night. Inebriation, verbal abuse, physical abuse? That's alright in Pureblood cultures, isn't it?" she said, her voice dipping an octave or so.

"_Granger_," began Draco as fluidly as he could. "That was low, even for you. Should I go on about your customs? Surely, I have changed. As you must have learned, snakes can shed their skin. And I am deeply sorry for what must have transpired. But I was inebriated, and I am unsure of what occurred. I don't even recall seeing you."

"Typical," she snorted.

Theodore mentally rolled her eyes at how Hermione was judging again. It wasn't until Draco shot him a glance that his eyes were diverted to the coffee table, where a familiar witch graced the front cover.

"I hate to break the little brawl here," he interrupted. Draco and Hermione both shot him expectant looks. "But it looks like the princess just made the cover."

Draco turned around momentarily, not noticing Hermione let out a deep breath.

"'The Golden Girl Returns?'" she queried, the reference to Harry, Ron and her as the Golden Trio was not lost upon her.

She folded her arms across her chest and stared at both men in the room. Her eyes burned into Theodore's back as he stepped closer to the coffee table to pick up the Daily Prophet. It almost seemed as if he was breaking a sweat just making a few steps on his little academic voyage.

"Nothing big," he shrugged, as he skimmed paragraph after paragraph. It was mostly composed of questions and rumours, asking her to come forward. Nothing interested him.

No response. He was going to change the topic.

"Draco, Lyra left in a fit…"

"Most likely, mate. Besides, I guess I wrongly accused her of some things. She fixed it in the end."

"Care to explain?"

Before Draco could reply, Hermione cleared her throat in an annoyed manner. She still stood there expectantly. She was being childish again and she knew it. But she had no desire to listen to the two men break off in cheery banter while she was stuck wallowing in a horrid mood. Draco was first to look up, with a curl of his lip indicating that he too, was annoyed. Theodore turned around next, his expression not equally as annoyed, but there was something there.

"Yes, Granger?" asked Draco.

"May we please go retrieve my wand now?" she responded flatly. Both men nearly shivered from the iciness of her voice. She was acting spoiled and impolite when she didn't even have the facts straight. Although in her position, one could see why she was acting the way she was.

"You know, before you go tearing the house apart, could we maybe _talk_?" asked Theodore. His eyes bore into Hermione's and she couldn't help but feel a little more relaxed. She let out a breath that she didn't even know she was holding in. Fine, they could talk. She had no desire to spend an unnecessary amount of time at Draco's, but she also wished to get everything over with.

"Alright, about what?" she snapped.

"Okay, why don't we all just sit down? We can explain everything to you, Granger," he grinned. "It'll be like _Lord of the Flies_. We can sit in a circle – in our case, a triangle, and just have everyone say their piece," suggested Draco halfheartedly. Normally, he wasn't into such a heartfelt conversation. But judging by how everyone was acting, he knew that this was necessary.

"Only there's no conch," added Theodore. He received a curt nod from his friend.

"Since when were you two into Muggle literature?" thought Hermione aloud. She reluctantly took a seat on an armchair. Her back was as straight as an arrow, feeling unable to relax completely as she was defenseless and surrounded by two men she did not trust "Anyways, we aren't in a rehabilitation centre."

"Please, I've played mediator many times," smirked Draco. "Who'd like to go first?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at how stupid this idea was, yet she was able to see the logic in Draco's decision to have their conversation. She noticed that Theodore volunteered, and at the pit of her stomach, Hermione felt an uneasiness of what was about to unfold.

-

Ron Weasley awoke on the comfort of his mattress, rolling over instinctively as his head hit something soft and warm. With his eyes still squinted from the morning light that bathed his room in a warm yellow, he looked up to find a petite, blonde witch frowning at the Daily Prophet in front of her. Ron didn't care. He rubbed his eyes and scanned the skinny woman beside him, who was cute in her black underwear and messy curls, but looked vacant and stupid like a street bimbo. In fact, she was probably a street bimbo. He almost wondered if she was frowning because she couldn't make out the words on the cover. The only words she probably knew were "down", "harder", "faster" and "suck". Then again, if he really had to be fair, he didn't know _her_ name either. He was certain that she must have known his. He was like a celebrity, after all.

"What are you frowning at, babe?" he queried. His voice was low and mildly seductive. Calling her "babe" wasn't such a bad idea. He didn't know her name. Besides, she wasn't such a bad fuck, not that he remembered too much after those shots at the pub.

"Granger made the cover," she answered idly. Now noticing that her bedmate was awake, she tried to seduce him once more. But he clearly wasn't in the mood, judging by the expression on his face. Not that she noticed it anyway, but his eyes were glued to the article that was in her hands.

_Hermione_ Granger? A memory of them together, a long time ago, filled his mind.

_"Ronald, do let go," grinned Hermione playfully as she moved off of his lap. They were all gathered together at the Leaky Cauldron, sitting in a corner. All was a façade in front of the others. Hermione may or may not have known that Ron had ulterior motives with her that night, but it didn't faze him one bit. He had no guilty conscience._

_"No way, babe…you're mine," he whispered possessively, holding her warm body closer to his. Hermione's heart skipped a beat for a second, not knowing if he was serious or not – if he meant good or bad. He'd been so different lately, so strange. The only time they ever talked was during sex, and that hadn't gotten particularly better. His lips were parted, and he pretended to whisper things into her ear. The others were smiling and looking away in embarrassment._

_"Ron…not here," she murmured, leaning back further into him. She trusted him. He was being nice for the first time in days. He ignored her comment and continued his tiny movements on her body, trailing his fingers up her thigh. He noticed her response, the way she sighed and let her eyes flutter. It was so easy to satisfy her._

He broke out of his daze when he realized that his bedmate was looking at him peculiarly.

"Hermione…" he murmured, his voice low again. He studied her picture in the newspaper. He had to admit that she still looked quite decent after all these years. Her hair was glossy, her body was still youthful and clad in fashionable clothes, but something was up. There was a hint of mysteriousness of her that just made the whole picture more captivating – that just didn't balance with everything else. An onlooker wouldn't have noticed the difference, but one who studied her would have been able to tell the happy Hermione from the sad one; in which he wasn't well-acquainted with her happier side.

"Come on, let's forget about her and have a sequel to last night," smiled the witch, her brown eyes glimmering in mischief. She brought the Daily Prophet out of the redhead's view. She hadn't noticed his frown because she was grinning like a cat.

"Sure, why not?" sighed Ron. Another image of Hermione flashed through his mind. She left _him_. He shook it out, deciding not to remember things that were of no importance. What irked him was that she was the one who got away. She'd have to pay for that someday.


	15. Apologies

Love Me Nott: by Mocktail

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing; these characters were created by J.K. Rowling. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_A/N: Guys, thanks for reading again. Any reviews/comments are greatly appreciated. Sorry, this chapter's awkward and was painful to write. Also, I'll be away for a couple days and will not be able to pre-write as much. I wrote this chapter a couple weeks ago and right now, I'm on chapter 23 (for those who are curious). Enjoy!  
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_CHAPTER 15: APOLOGIES

Hermione, Draco, and Theodore lounged in the spacious living room against comfortable cushioned seats. At a glance, it would seem as if they were good friends discussing their plans for the day. However, they were not. They were discussing something serious – Theodore's mistake on violating Hermione's private life, Hermione's insecurities, and Draco's drunken mistake. Brown eyes met blue ones, which then met gray ones. Licking his bottom lip, Theodore cleared his throat.

"Before you get your wand and hex me, I'd just like to apologize…again," he began. Hermione quirked up and eyebrow in the most uninterested fashion while Draco tried not imitate a member of the Wizengamot. "I can understand why you're angry with me. I'm sure you've heard my explanation and I just hope that we can put this behind us. I had no intentions or knowledge of your past and definitely should not have toyed with something as deep and as important to you as your family."

"Is that it?" interrupted Hermione. She had her eyes closed. Neither man could tell if she was annoyed or emotional. Her eyelids fluttered as she trained her eyes on Theodore. He merely waved his hand about. He used Hermione's interruption as an excuse to think of what to say next. That being said, there wasn't much more _to_ say.

"I've got the conch," he said humourously. His audience was unresponsive, thus prompting him to continue his apology. "I'd also like to apologize for what transpired between us at Diagon Alley earlier. I had no right to say the words I did and regret the actions I made. But you are right. I don't know you and therefore, I should not have crossed the boundary when it came to your private life and your feelings."

He took a deep breath. Hermione looked at him oddly. It was impossible to distinguish the expression plastered on her face. It might have been of bemusement, but could have also been one of sarcasm. Nonetheless, he gave him a curt nod and signaled Draco to begin. The blonde nearly wanted to grimace in Hermione's smugness, but knew that he had his days when he acted the same way. But snakes could shed their skin, the same way a lion could change its growl. Or in Hermione's case, lose it.

"Alright," began Draco. "I am not misogynistic nor did I purposely try to hurt you. I was under the influence of alcohol. Although that may not be the best excuse, it _is_ the reason. I'm not sure if Theo has told you before, but I've always been a tad crazy when drunk. It's why you've got to steer clear of me. I'm sure you can stand witness to what occurs. It's interesting that you're able to sit here without fear that I'll hurt you."

His tone of voice had changed halfway through his speech. A comment in specific angered Hermione. He was compromising her insecurities and her judgment? It felt like a personal attack. It sounded like what occurred was _her_ fault. She looked down at her knees for a moment, telling herself to pull it together. These two wouldn't _hurt_ her. If that was their plan, they would have done so already. Biting her bottom lip, her thoughts were ceased by the sound of Draco's voice.

"Also, on your way out, you might have seen a young witch. I suppose you could say that she looks like you," shrugged Draco. He tilted his head over to the side, studying Hermione's features. "She's a wannabe Skeeter. Her name's Lyra. In a way, she's an insider on what will be printed in the Daily Prophet. But she's also pretty desperate. We had a little fling, it was nothing serious."

Hermione scoffed in response.

"Boys," muttered Hermione under her breath.

"What was that?" asked Draco sharply. He noticed Theodore sink into his seat but refrained from commenting.

"Nothing," responded Hermione. "You can continue. What did Lyra do?"

"I'm pretty sure you can guess. She took a photograph of you and me together that day we ran into Parkinson. You could just imagine the rumours that could spark from that one photograph. Luckily, she fixed things and saved us all a bit of drama. Let's just say we had a _negotiation_," answered Draco. He swallowed and then continued. "Little did I know that there'd be drama with a certain Gryffindor. So I apologize, I was drunk and mistook you for her. It's that simple. It's your choice to buy it or not."

Theodore raised his hand for a moment but received no response from either member of the room.

"Lyra did a huge favour for us even though she technically, was the one who instigated the problem. And all we've ever done to you or for you since your return has been for the better, or at least that's what we've attempted," remarked Theodore. For a moment, he thought he saw a glimmer of emotion pass over Hermione's eyes. But it disappeared as quickly as it came.

Silence enveloped them for what seemed like an eternity. The glances that Draco and Theodore shared were not missed by Hermione. However, she was preoccupied with something else – _everything_. She was taking in what the men had said to her. Replaying the last few minutes in her head, she felt her stomach churning. She tasted something sour and horrible in her mouth. In obvious distaste, her eyebrows furrowed together and she swallowed hard. Theodore was not slow in missing this reaction. Although he had no knowledge of what was going on inside her head, he was able to see vulnerability in the Gryffindor. She was no longer angry at the two men but angry with herself. She'd let her emotions get the better of her. It wasn't Draco's fault that he'd almost hurt her. She had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time – nor was it Theodore's fault for stumbling upon the wrong scene with important people. A wave of guilt washed over her. She now began to appreciate these two men and how they sat down with her to fix things. It touched her that they would even bother with someone they hadn't seen for years. She felt even worse that Theodore was right. He hadn't been trying to preach anything to her except to apologize. His words sank in from before.

"_A moment of weakness? I felt sympathy for you, Hermione. And I'm sorry that you had to go through what you did. And of course I don't know you. You put up a wall around yourself and make up excuses to avoid getting things done. How, for Merlin's sake, would you expect me to know you? You have preconceived notions about everyone and everything. And if I may be so bold to say, I'd even say that you are a coward. You call yourself a Gryffindor?" he responded, his voice rising. He wasn't concentrating on Hermione's feelings at the moment. Surely, she must've been feeling crushed, but he couldn't tell what she was feeling from the void expression plastered on her face. "You're playing the victim as well, and sometimes, I think that you're a glutton for punishment, or some sort of masochist."_

She believed that he was wrong when he was right. It was difficult for Hermione to accept this. She'd always known she was a little defensive, although that was certainly an understatement. But this was something that she couldn't help. The only reason why Draco and Theodore hadn't gotten to know her well enough was because she didn't give them the chance; because she had her own beliefs and ideas of whom and how they were. Furthermore, she assumed that she had it the toughest when Theodore and Draco both lost loved ones to the war. Even Theodore put it so well, that Jean could even grasp onto bits of happiness when all she did was mope about. She licked her dry lips and closed her eyes momentarily.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. Her voice was soft and raspy and was nothing that Theodore, or Draco had ever heard before. "If anyone is to apologize, it's me. I'm selfish and pathetic."

She felt weak as she gripped onto the arm of the armchair. Her knuckles went white. She was touched that for the first time in years, someone was able to see who she was; Theodore, and now Draco. But at the same time, she was angry that this side of her was seen. It made her feel exposed. Anyone could easily exploit it. She began to shake.

_I'm such a coward!_

"Hermione…"

Mixed expressions were painted on both the faces of the handsome men in the room. Theodore offered his hand to the shaking brunette for a moment, but withdrew it when he noticed Draco's disapproval. Hermione did not seem to notice their exchange but felt eyes on her. It was uncomfortable and she wanted nothing more than to hide.

Draco whispered something in Theodore's ear and stood up. Watching the blonde depart the scene for the stairs, Theodore sat as close as he could to Hermione without physically touching her. When the final patch of blonde disappeared from view, the man said her name again. But this time, he sounded more confident.

"Hermione," he said out loud.

Hermione had her head hanging low; she couldn't hear anything he was saying.

"_You're pushing everyone away, you slut!" remarked Ron loudly. A horrible cracking noise sounded from the smack of the redhead's hand against his girlfriend's face. Hermione gasped out loud in response. She tasted a coppery bitterness and knew that she was bleeding. "Ginny has no time for you. Harry has no time for you. Heck, even Luna can't keep up with your disbelief in her pathetic talk. You've pushed _me_ away too. And whose fault is it?"_

_The brunette was shaking uncontrollably. Her legs melted into a pool as she fell onto the ground. She felt uneasy lying against the wall but tried to seek comfort in such a position that she was in. She was so pathetic, wasn't she? She'd turned everyone away and she couldn't even stand up and dare to fix things. A wrack of sobs took over her body as she gripped onto Ron's ankle helplessly. Kicking her in the stomach, she grunted kick after kick. Gasping out in pain did nothing to ease her discomfort. Tears streamed down her face. She refused to look into her boyfriend's face. It was unbearable. But she loved him and wanted to fix things. She couldn't leave him._

"_Do you know how hard it is to keep up this image? I've always been the underdog of our Golden Trio!" spat Ron. He cupped Hermione's wet face as he kneeled down in front of her. The helpless witch could feel his hot breath on her face. She attempted to steady her breathing but failed. "You don't even know because you've always been such a genius. 'Oh, Hermione is such a bright witch with a wonderful future ahead of her!'"_

_The blood that was drying on her face began to stain Ron's fingers. He wiped it against the bottom of Hermione's shirt. She was avoiding his gaze. Her watery brown eyes were fixed elsewhere and she only wanted to hide._

"_Do you think it's fair, Hermione? I've put in just as much effort as you and Harry have and now I have to put in extra effort for recognition _and_ discipline my girlfriend on how to act?" he seethed. "Look at me!"_

_Hermione's teeth chattered as she stared into Ron's blue eyes. Beads of sweat trailed down to his chin and his cheeks were red. His teeth were clenched and his eyebrows were knitted together. This Ron did not belong to her! This was not the Ron she fell in love with._

"_I'm sorry," murmured Hermione. He could barely hear her._

"_Whatever," he said icily. "Just be grateful I didn't kick you another five times."_

_The brunette winced. Was she supposed to feel grateful or not? It angered her that she had to doubt herself._

"_What was that?" queried Ron menacingly. His blue eyes narrowed into slits as he grabbed Hermione by the collar. Fear was suffocating Hermione as she pressed her sweaty palms against the ground. Her whole body was shaking as his other hand enveloped her neck. His grip was so tight on her that she thought she'd lose consciousness if this continued._

"Hermione!"

The girl shrieked as her arms and legs thrashed about. She refused to look at the person holding her by the shoulders. She desperately looked away in horror. Her hair was tangled and she looked disheveled, miserable, and possessed. Whoever was holding her loosened his or her grip on her shoulders and began whispering soothing words.

"Shh, it's alright," the masculine voice whispered.

The witch gasped and choked for air as she struggled to pull away, only to be firmly held in place.

"_Hermione_, stay still, would you? It's Theo…"

His attempts to calm her down barely worked, though she stopped thrashing and her movements were slowed. As soon as her shaking had been reduced to only gentle shivering, Theodore dared to look into her eyes. They were red from crying and her cheeks were stained with tears. In the most child-like way, Hermione rubbed away her tears with the back of her hand and then fell into a warm embrace with the wizard in front of her. Hesitantly, Theodore hugged her back, careful not to crush the fragile girl after the spectacle. His shoulders sagged slightly as his nose was buried in Hermione's hair. He inhaled her scent deeply before pulling away.

"Are you alright?" he asked. His voice was laced with worry.

"F-fine," she replied, her body shaking slightly. Her cheeks were red and she refused to meet his gaze.

"You're not fine," murmured Theodore. "You're shaking."

There was no response.


	16. Amends

Love Me Nott: by Mocktail

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing; these characters were created by J.K. Rowling. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_A/N: Guys, thanks for reading again. Any reviews/comments are greatly appreciated._

_

* * *

_CHAPTER 16: AMENDS

"You didn't have to come home with me," stuttered Hermione, whose teeth were chattering from the drizzling rain that was causing her hair to frizz. She stepped into her flat with Theodore behind her, who took out his wand to perform a drying spell on the both of them. Thanking the wizard with a smile, Hermione kicked off her shoes.

"I just wanted to make sure that you were okay," retorted Theodore. He was still standing outside in the hall awkwardly, as if waiting for Hermione to invite him in. Taking in the view of Hermione's flat, he thought he heard a pecking noise but dismissed it as the pattering rain.

"I'm fine, thanks though," said the witch flatly, trying her hardest not to frown. Clearing her throat as she ran her fingers through her hair, she shrugged her shoulders and looked around her. "Well, this is my place…"

Theodore nodded, his eyes wandering her home. It obviously wasn't as lavishly decorated or large as his but it was still a home nonetheless. He grinned to himself before he saw a wet, feathery white mess by Hermione's window.

"Hey umm, I think there's a bird..."

Before he could finish her sentence, he saw Hermione rush to open the window. Her eyebrows knitted together as a sopping wet Hedwig flew in with a rolled up piece of parchment tied around her leg. Theodore watched Hermione gently stroke Hedwig before bringing her inside. Taking out her wand from beneath her dress, she performed a drying spell on the bird, who hooted appreciatively at the witch.

"Umm…I guess I'll go if –"

Hermione turned a bright shade of red before realizing that she'd just left him waiting outside.

"No, feel free to come on inside," she said sheepishly. Theodore shrugged and the brunette could have almost sworn that he was blushing. "Fine, think of it as _repayment_."

Theodore let out a halfhearted laugh and stepped inside.

"Make yourself at home, I suppose," shrugged Hermione, trying her hardest to give Theodore a genuine smile.

"Yeah, thanks," he said. He sat on the couch near Hermione, watching her unravel the piece of parchment. He studied her features once more, noticing that the emotional spectacle from earlier had taken a toll on her looks. Her cheeks still held a reddish tinge while her eye bags were more prominent. She was also frowning, which led Theodore to believe that her cheerfulness was nothing but a façade.

"Hey, if you'd like tea or coffee, the kettle's on the stove though it'll need some heat," grinned Hermione, without looking up from the piece of parchment. She set that aside and strangely stepped towards Theodore. He was the guest and she should have been a better hostess, she decided. She could read Harry or Ginny's note afterwards. Walking past him, Theodore's eyes followed her movements until she was in the kitchen behind the island. She failed to notice Theodore standing up and sauntering towards her with a small grin tugging at his lips.

"Anything's fine, I can do it myself if you tell me where everything is," he offered kindly. "I just thought that you'd like to sit down after…you know, everything…"

His hand covered Hermione's, which was resting on the kettle as her other hand was working at turning the stove on. As if she'd burnt herself, Hermione's hand flew away from beneath Theodore's. She tried her hardest to fight the blush that was invading her cheeks. Backed up against the counter, Theodore rested both hands on either side of her. She should have felt uncomfortable, but she didn't. She didn't feel trapped nor smothered, just lightheaded from the close proximity of their faces. His eyes bore into hers as he looked down at her. Unconsciously licking her parted lips, Hermione's eyes scanned Theodore's face. She didn't know what she was looking for, but she couldn't help but stare. She noticed how the parting of his lips mirrored hers and how his eyes fell on her pink lips. About five minutes passed during their staring contest. The awkwardness of the situation was beginning to make Hermione feel increasingly lightheaded. Seeing stars as Theodore's body was moving even closer to hers, the whistling kettle killed the tension that filled the air. Theodore's attention was then drawn elsewhere and it gave Hermione a chance to scramble for the teabags.

"Is Earl Grey fine with you?" she squeaked, picking up the closest box of teabags she could find.

"Yeah," responded Theodore, hardly paying attention to Hermione, who was taking out two white mugs and placing a teabag in each.

"Would you like anything else?" offered Hermione lamely.

"Thanks, but no thanks," he responded.

The wizard turned off the stove and picked up the kettle. Hermione leaned against the counter with two pink spots appearing on either side of her face. He decided to ignore it as he concentrated on filling each mug with the same amount of water. Placing the kettle back down on the stove, he passed Hermione a mug.

"Thanks," she said.

Theodore ignored her and picked up the teabag and dropped it back in the water. He watched it darken into an orange and brown colour. Deciding to avoid yet another awkward scene, Hermione walked over to Hedwig again and stroked her feathers lightly. Theodore grinned at her as he took a sip of his tea.

"Has the poor bird been out there all day?" queried Theodore, his voice puncturing the deadly silence.

Hermione turned around, snapping out of her reverie.

"Uhh…yeah, probably," she shrugged.

"That sort of sucks, huh?" he remarked casually. "Who does the pretty owl belong to though?"

"She belongs to Harry. I suppose I should reply soon or else he and Ginny will get worried," frowned Hermione. She placed a lock of her hair behind an ear and placed her mug down on the glass coffee table in front of the couch. She turned away slightly to hide her red face from what had almost occurred earlier. Close, but no cigar, she thought.

"About you?" asked Theodore quizzically.

"_Oh_!" exclaimed Hermione. "No, they'd be worried about Hedwig."

"Why is that?" asked Theodore again. He sounded embarrassed to be asking all the questions.

"She's my only way of replying back. I don't have an owl," confessed Hermione. There was no shame in her voice even though it trembled ever so slightly. An indecipherable expression was painted on Theodore's face though Hermione hardly noticed. After his mouth hung open for about ten seconds, he switched topics.

"Are you okay? I mean, after what happened at the party and this afternoon…" Theodore's sentence was cut off by Hermione. He was trying to meet her gaze but she was clearly avoiding him.

"I'm _fine_," she replied reassuringly.

She started zoning out from there because her mind was whirling at a hundred miles per hour. What had occurred at her mother's and her breakdown at Draco's was still fresh in her mind. She definitely still felt horrible, but her attention was focused elsewhere as she was too busy thinking about what almost happened with Theodore. She knew that she should have tried to omit the memory; but somehow, it was difficult. It was hormones, she told herself. That was the only reason why she let her guard down. Her facial expression instantly changed into one of blankness.

"Sorry…" murmured Theodore. He leaned in front of the island in Hermione's kitchen.

"There's nothing to apologize for, Theo," said Hermione flatly. She then turned in his direction. "And I already told you back at Draco's…if anyone is to apologize, it's me."

She swallowed hard.

"Hmm, what _happened_ at Draco's earlier?" queried Theodore curiously. He noticed that Hermione's expression changed; how lips turned into a thin line and her cheeks grew redder. He was unsure if it was his silent agreement to Hermione's previous statement, or if he was just too nosy for his own good. "You don't have to –"

"Nothing," lied Hermione. She refused to return his gaze. "Look, I should get back to Ginny and Harry. It was nice having you over."

Theodore blinked twice, placing his empty mug on the island that he was leaning against. Standing up straight and trying his hardest not to throw Hermione an odd look, he walked over to the door, which was being opened by the witch. He wondered if she felt like a bad hostess at all, or if she was making up excuses just to get rid of him. He purposely placed his hand on top of hers, making sure that she wouldn't be able to move away. Then drawing her closer to him with his eyes, he noticed the blush that was slowly creeping up Hermione's neck. He mentally smirked. He had her against the door, her arm twisted in an odd position. Studying her facial expression once more, he was certain that she'd crack if he continued this. But he wouldn't play this sick game. Instead, he would bid her goodbye and leave.

"Just take care."

"T-thanks…"

"No, thank _you_."

He finally let go of her hand, which was against the knob. As soon as he did that, Hermione almost _missed_ the feel of his warm hand cupping hers. Telling herself to get a grip, she refused to be swayed by the wizard's charm. His eyes still on Hermione's, he tilted his face closer to hers, forcing Hermione to push her head back against the door. She felt pinned and suddenly uncomfortable. The attraction she felt for him began to fizzle away. What was he doing? The suspense was causing her body to sweat and her cheeks to turn an even darker shade of red. It wasn't until she felt soft lips against her cheek that she felt somewhat more relieved. The kiss was a friendly gesture, yet made Hermione's legs turn into jelly and her hand fall away from the doorknob. She felt embarrassed for feeling this. It was just a kiss on the cheek; it wasn't as if he'd shoved his tongue down her throat! After he pulled away, he gave her one of his signature boyish grins.

"Goodbye."

"B-bye…"

And as soon as he left, she leaned against the door, sliding down the smooth wood with a red face, sweaty palms, and closed eyes. It was just hormones, she thought. She could not let that get the better of her.

-

"Darling, I think Hedwig's back," grinned Ginny Weasley as she sat in the kitchen staring out the window for what seemed like a couple hours. She turned to Harry, who was making tea. Her soon-to-be husband flashed her one of his dazzling smiles and picked up two mugs, handing one to the redhead before giving her a light peck on the cheek.

"It was about time, huh?" he responded.

He let Hedwig in through the window and let her sit on his shoulder for a bit. Smoothing out his soft feathers, he slowly untied the string that surrounded a piece of damp parchment from Hedwig's leg. He handed it to his fiancée hesitantly, careful not to annoy Hedwig with his movements. Unraveling the small piece paper, Ginny found her own writing scrawled on one side. She flipped it over to find Hermione's response, which seemed to have been quickly scrawled in ballpoint pen.

_Hi Ginny and Harry,_

_I apologize for the late reply and Hedwig's late return. I fed and cleaned him for you. Also, I would love to meet you two. I think that there is much to discuss before your big day._

_Love,  
Hermione_


	17. Meals

Love Me Nott: by Mocktail

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing; these characters were created by J.K. Rowling. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_A/N: Guys, thanks for reading again. Any reviews/comments are greatly appreciated._

_

* * *

_CHAPTER 17: MEALS

A couple days had passed since Theodore dropped Hermione off at her place. The days had been relaxing for Hermione. She enjoyed reading, along with visiting her mother. But today was different as she was going to meet Harry and Ginny at a café in Diagon Alley. It'd been years since they'd crossed paths and finally, being able to see the people she trusted the most, she felt a little more comfortable. Surely, she felt butterflies in her stomach, but she was able to calm herself and keep herself preoccupied by focusing her attention on her looks. For instance, she'd spent the last three hours taming her hair, making it sleek and straight the Muggle way. She had light makeup caked onto her face and finished off her look with a loose and summery yellow tunic over a pair of comfortable white shorts.

Tucking her wand into her purse, she looked around her flat, making sure that she was ready to leave before slipping into a pair of wedges. Fumbling with her house keys after she locked her door, she smiled to herself before disappearing into the elevator.

-

"Harry, what if she's not coming?" whined Ginny, as she rested a cheek against the cool glass of the café's window. She glanced outside, only to notice a group of old witches cackling and nudging each other. With a roll of her eyes, she folded her arms across her chest, careful not to touch the bulge of her belly.

"Hermione said she would," said Harry plainly. He gave her a reassuring smile and Ginny merely twiddled her thumbs before seeing a familiar witch step into the café past the bright umbrellas and chattering customers. Her face instantly lit up at the sight of the witch, who was gracing a nervous smile as she stepped over to her old friends.

"'Mione!" shrieked Ginny. "Long time no see!"

She and Harry instantly stood up and threw their arms around the surprised brunette. She blushed a deep crimson before returning their embrace.

"Hey!" she said happily. She noticed that a few customers were looking at them strangely, some nodding their heads and whispering.

"Sit," grinned Harry, running his fingers through his tousled hair.

Hermione did as told and sat across from the happy couple, who looked perfect in every way. Harry had gained more weight and grown more muscular since the last time she'd seen him, with broader shoulders and a more tanned complexion. Ginny, obviously gained more weight and pregnancy just made her glow so beautifully. Her face had gotten rounder and her hair grew longer, but she was still the gorgeous redhead from Hogwarts. Hermione stared at them back and forth, trying her hardest to be polite about it while they both analyzed her in the same way.

"You look fantastic, 'Mione!" exclaimed Ginny animatedly.

"Thanks, so do the both of you," she said, plastering a pasty smile on her face. She tried not to think of what they thought of her as she placed a lock of her straight brown hair behind an ear.

"So how have you been?" queried Harry. He didn't look as ecstatic as his lover as he was able to keep his cool, but was happy nonetheless to see his best friend after five years. At times, he wondered if she was fine. The Hermione he knew back at Hogwarts was fiercer and more determined. This one looked a little bored and dejected.

"I've been fine, how about you two?" replied Hermione.

Before any of them could continue the conversation, a pretty waitress walked up to their table with a giant smile on her face. Her hair was a nice dirty blonde and cropped very short. She handed the trio menus and walked off quickly before whispering something to her colleague.

"So…umm, where were we?" asked Harry.

"I asked you guys how you were," answered Hermione. She flipped open the menu and skimmed through a list before closing it. She'd made up her mind rather quickly and glanced at Ginny, who was across from her. The redhead seemed to be having problems deciding what she wanted.

"Oh…I've been fine. _We've_ been good. I'm feeling a little uncomfortable with my pregnancy, but mum says that it's natural. When she had Bill, she craved chocolate éclairs," giggled Ginny. Hermione couldn't help but notice that she had her fingers intertwined with Harry's in between them. She felt a twinge of jealousy.

"Mm," murmured Hermione. She then looked up after deciding on her beverage. "How long have you been pregnant for?"

"Oh, a couple months!" smiled Ginny, she placed her index finger on her bottom lip and nodded to herself before closing her menu. She then faced Hermione. "But enough about us, what have you been up to lately?"

Hermione felt like frowning.

"Nothing productive, to be quite honest," she answered truthfully. She watched as Harry closed his menu and then cleared her throat. "I caught up with some of the Slytherin and Seamus…"

At that, Harry cocked up an eyebrow.

"Slytherin?" he repeated. He was all for Hermione making new friends but was merely surprised that she'd paid a visit to them instead of the Weasleys. "And Seamus?"

"Oh, he's a serial dater," winked Ginny. Harry shot her a look and she couldn't help but let out a roar of laughter. Hermione did the same thing and nodded, recalling her encounter with the Gryffindor. "He dated Parvati for a week, then Padma. I know that he and Hannah tried something a while ago but it didn't work out."

The brunette nodded and placed her order with the waitress, as did her friends. While they were waiting for their food, Ginny revealed a bit of gossip to Hermione for about ten minutes. Harry pretended to doze off while Hermione pretended to be interested. Some of it was nice, such as learning that Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom would be traveling the world together to learn about exotic species of plants. The two of them planned on writing a book together and kept in contact with Harry and Ginny. Some of it was also unfortunate, such as learning about Charlie Weasley's burnt hand from his trip to Europe at a dragon convention. Nonetheless, it was nice to catch up with her friends. She felt grateful for a moment that they hadn't turned into Ron. Her face fell instantly when Ginny started mentioning him.

"You know…ever since you left, Ron –"

"Ginny!"

Harry's loud voice nearly made Hermione jump up from her seat. A few onlookers stared at them before returning to their meals.

"Harry, you're making a scene," murmured Ginny. Her eyebrows knitted together. "Besides, she should know…"

"About what?" snapped Hermione. Her lips were pursed and she folded her arms across her chest. She got the feeling that this conversation would only go downhill. Her brown eyes narrowed as she looked at Harry, and then Ginny, and back at Harry as if it was a tennis match.

Harry winced.

"Just tell me if I should know," said Hermione flatly. She got a feeling that she'd be getting answers now.

"Okay," sighed Harry. He wasn't going to fight his best friend who he hadn't seen in years. "Ginny, you can tell her."

"Right," nodded Ginny. Her eyes bore into Hermione's as she said this. "Ever since you left, Ron just wasn't the same."

Hermione's eyes narrowed into slits and her eyebrows furrowed together. Harry was a little afraid of what would happen next. Hermione and Ginny were known to have sharp tongues and his future wife, being the hormonal woman that she was, had a temper as fiery as her red hair. Hermione was one who could keep her cool, but had tricks and arguments up her sleeve.

"I left _because_ he changed, Gin," she said. She was trying to fight back tears as she recalled her memories with Ron. Ginny didn't seem to notice this, yet Harry stayed silent and listened to their conversation.

"Yeah, fair enough," sighed Ginny, who felt a pat on her thigh from Harry. "But you should still come over and visit us sometime. Mum would really like it."

"Hmm, I'll think about it," said Hermione halfheartedly.

"Oh Ginny, let's not pressure her," intervened Harry. His friend gave him a smile. "Hermione, are you comfortable with coming over?"

"I don't know. I think it might be too sudden," replied Hermione quietly. Nobody missed the annoyed expression that was plastered on Ginny's face. How could Hermione spend time with a bunch of Slytherin while the Weasleys, who had always been supportive of her, were missing her and waiting for her to show up?

"For Merlin's sake, sweetheart!" said Ginny. Her voice softened immediately as her shoulders relaxed when Harry held her hand. "We're here for you. Everyone's missed you incredibly."

Hermione's eyes went downcast as she looked at the empty table with thoughts whirling in her mind at a hundred miles per hour. Harry and Ginny gave her expectant stares but the brunette refused to crack under the pressure. Ginny was determined to get Hermione back while Harry was only trying to be supportive of Hermione's transition back into her old life with her friends. As Hermione was about to respond to Ginny, the food the three of them had ordered earlier arrived. Thanking the waitress with a smile, they all picked up their forks and began digging through their meals.

"Just think about it, 'Mione."

Ginny took a sip of her pumpkin juice and stuck her fork through her mashed potatoes.

"Yeah, I know," said Hermione, in an annoyed tone of voice. She was fidgeting and prodding at her shepherd's pie. Harry stopped eating to pay attention to his friend. Something wasn't right, he decided. "But after Ron…and I apologize in advance. It's not nice to talk about this over lunch after just meeting up with each other again; but I felt so betrayed when I was with him. It's just really hard for me to trust people because he was my best friend."

Harry and Ginny both looked at each other. So Ron _wasn't_ a good boyfriend after all. Seeing him with different women all the time and now Hermione…well, that had confirmed their suspicions. They nodded to each other and thought of comforting words that Hermione would not take offensively.

"And so are we," said Ginny simply.

"I know," mumbled Hermione.

"So you don't trust us?" queried Ginny. She was trying not to make Hermione feel as if she and Harry were ganging up on her.

"I do, it's just hard to. But yes, of course I trust you guys!" answered Hermione. Her eyes were watery and she looked at both of them, trying to convince them that this was the truth. The two of them nodded with pursed lips.

"Just think about it" said Harry kindly. "We don't know why Ron changed. He's rather pompous right now; he's a fame and glory hog. And you wouldn't believe the girls that line up for him. He and us are different. Just because he changed or angered you, it doesn't mean that we will all anger you as well"

Hermione shot him an irritated look. Harry looked apologetic as he watched his best friend shake her head. The hero wasn't trying to make Ron look bad. But on the contrary, was trying to show Hermione to look at things from a different perspective. In a way, it reminded her of how Theodore told her not to have preconceived notions of people. It made her feel vulnerable again – to be wrong. She bit her lip as the tension at the table grew. She had a contemplative look on her face. Yes, Harry was right. Girls _did _fawn over him all the time. Hermione was different because she loved Ron and didn't feel the need to gush over him like the others. She was just unique that way. Perhaps Ron didn't appreciate her uniqueness. Perhaps he only wanted fame and his desire and lust for fame overpowered his love for Hermione. And because he had little control of how much power or fame he had, he decided to exercise his cruelty on Hermione as he felt that their relationship was the only thing he could have complete control of. She didn't know. She was making assumptions and all the thinking made her head hurt.

"'Mione, are you alright?" queried Ginny. She was genuinely worried for her friend.

"Yeah," lied Hermione. "I was just thinking about something, that's all."


	18. Surprises

Love Me Nott: by Mocktail

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing; these characters were created by J.K. Rowling. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_A/N: Guys, thanks for reading again. Any reviews/comments are greatly appreciated. Regarding owls, I'm so scared of them. I was searching up images of them and just gave up in the end because the images were so scary; with their beady black eyes and sharp beaks. So I hope you guys don't mind the lack of description of the owl. Also, I'm writing chapter 24 as we speak, and I hope I can finish the story by chapter 30. Anyhow, it won't matter because there's a sequel. And I've got the plotlines planned for both of them and I'm just warning you that the ending of "Love Me Nott" is rather ridiculous._

_

* * *

_CHAPTER 18: SURPRISES

Hermione dragged her feet along the cold floor of her flat, closing the door behind her. Leaving her meeting earlier than planned with Harry and Ginny was not on her schedule. Nonetheless, she believed that it would have been for the best. Their conversations were growing awkward and she felt uncomfortable in their presence. It may have been the fact that they were so in love. As cliché as this may have seemed to the witch, there was an aura emanating from the couple. Said aura made Hermione feel lonely and unloved. She felt even more distant than usual and wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and sleep it off. However, she was only fooling herself if she believed that the feeling would pass after a nap.

She sauntered over to her living room and peered through the window. She squinted her eyes as she was temporary blinded by a bright ray of sunlight. When her vision returned, she noticed a beautiful golden brown owl hooting outside. There was a letter in his beak, which Hermione assumed was for her. She was curious to see who the letter was from, as she had never seen the messenger owl before. Smiling to herself, she opened the window and let the owl in. He let Hermione take the letter away from his beak. Noticing his companion's confused face; he gave her a friendly hoot and perched himself on the window ledge. The witch cautiously ripped open the envelope before pulling out the enclosed letter. The writing was neat and the letters were tall and skinny. She smiled to herself as she sat on the couch.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Please consider this owl to be a gift from me to you. I hope that you will find him useful. By the way, his name is Hermes and he likes owl nuts. A cage for him can be picked up at Eeylops Owl Emporium under my name._

_Sincerely,  
Theo_

Her eyebrows shot up. Why would Theodore ever send her a gift? She hadn't done anything for him. She closed her eyes and thought to herself. Perhaps this wasn't a matter of payback or getting even. Perhaps it was just a gesture of kindness. She _had_ told Theodore that she didn't own an owl, though her words did not have implications that she wanted one, nor did she have ulterior motives when she told Theodore about it. Evidently, he would be her first recipient.

_Dear Theo,_

_I am writing to you to thank you for your generous gift. I will find him very useful in my letter-writing ventures. Hermes is a very beautiful owl and I shall go to the emporium later this afternoon. I apologize for not having anything to return your kind gesture._

_Your friend,_

_Hermione_

She wondered if ending the letter in "your friend" was pushing it. She knew that she and Theodore were at least acquaintances who just got into fights. But was gift giving exclusive to business partners, family, and friends? She hoped that he wasn't trying to buy her friendship. The thought of that made her blood boil. Pureblood families were known for that, waving their money around as if they showered in galleons. She winced at the thought of that. It would have been rather painful to be struck with hundreds of little coins. Snapping out of her reverie, she concluded that it would have been odd to end off the letter with "your acquaintance", and perhaps their newfound friendship would be able to pull them closer. Now, if only Hermione could be more trusting.

-

Theodore wrapped a kelly green bathrobe around his half-naked body and ran a fluffy towel through his dark hair. Water droplets clung onto his skin and slid down his body before disappearing into his robe. He walked out of the bathroom and made his way downstairs to make a snack. He was home alone, as usual, this time of year. Mipsy was dismissed and left to visit some of her friends in Dorset. Before he reached the kitchen, he noticed a familiar-looking owl pecking at his living room window. Perplexed, he walked into his living room and opened the window, letting the owl in. He hooted in thanks.

"Hello, Hermes," murmured Theodore. He stroked the owl's feathers gently before retrieving the envelope that Hermes came to deliver.

_Dear Theo,_

_I am writing to you to thank you for your generous gift. I will find him very useful in my letter-writing ventures. Hermes is a very beautiful owl and I shall go to the emporium later this afternoon. I apologize for not having anything to return your kind gesture._

_Your friend,_

_Hermione_

He smiled at Hermione's letter. Pondering about how she ended the letter, the awkwardness from last week had fizzled away. So she considered him a friend. They could do that, right? No longer were they fighting. They were on good terms. Not bothering to scribble a response, he decided that he had yet another surprise in order for Hermione Granger. Smirking to himself, he decided to skip on the snack and run back upstairs for a change of clothes, not that the witch wouldn't have appreciated his current attire…

-

"Welcome to Eeylops Owl Emporium!" said a young boy. He was probably still a child, mused Hermione. She grinned at him and looked around the shop. It was dimly lit but many owls were in their cages; in various browns, grays, and whites. She stopped in front of one that looked just like Hedwig. Examining the price tag, her eyes widened. It was probably more expensive than _her_ most expensive piece of jewelry. Had Theodore paid _that_ much for her owl? She nibbled on her bottom lip, a feeling of guilt plaguing her. She was back to thinking about repayment again. Even if Theodore's gift had been a gesture of kindness, there was no way she'd be able to pay him back, monetarily or not.

However, before she could scare herself even more, a hand fell on her shoulder. She immediately turned around in a defensive position.

"Wow, that ain't what y' see everyday, love!" said the surprised shopkeeper. Hermione flushed a bright crimson in embarrassment. She wasn't used to people sneaking up on her like that. Apologizing, she scratched her head and stood up straighter in attempts to look less awkward.

She studied the appearance of the shopkeeper. He was quite old, with white streaks through his black hair, which hung over his shoulders in an unfashionable manner. Hermione couldn't help but notice that he had thick and bushy eyebrows. His brown eyes were studying her features as she was studying his. The bags under his eyes were quite noticeable. That came with age, thought Hermione. She also noticed that his nose was a little crooked and he wore a moustache, which dipped down to his mouth. The corners of his lips curled in a friendly sort of way. He was on the tall and plump side and almost seemed as if he wanted to devour the young witch before him.

"Now, 'ow can I help a nice lass? Yeh know that y' look familiar?" murmured the shopkeeper, studying her once more. Hermione couldn't help but blush again. It was nice that people didn't recognize her as easily.

"I'm Hermione Granger," she told him politely. The shopkeeper's eyes widened and Hermione felt his eyes all over her again. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable under his gaze, she asked if she could pick up an owl cage under Theodore's name. With raised eyebrows, the shopkeeper beckoned her inside, going past a messy desk of cages and owl treats before opening a door that held all sorts of paraphernalia. Hermione didn't bother looking around. She didn't want a headache.

"Really? Well, I didn' know that Theo Nott and yeh was friends," he said, amused. Hermione hid her blush and folded her arms across her chest.

"Well, we are," she sighed, trying not to sound rude. Honestly, he was worse than Slughorn!

"Wait 'ere, love!" said the shopkeeper. She nodded at him before waiting five minutes. As the time passed, she thought about how much more _included_ she felt. Earlier, she felt hopeless and unloved after witnessing Ginny and Harry's relationship. But with Theodore's gift, she couldn't help but feel a tug at her heart. It felt so unfamiliar, but so inviting at the same time. She convinced herself that it was just the fact that he'd surprised her. But even with all the lies she could tell others, she would never be able to lie to herself – Theodore Nott had an effect on her. Just what type of effect, Hermione didn't know. Thinking about it could potentially ruin their newfound friendship.

"Ah, I got it, miss!" yelled the shopkeeper. Hermione snapped out of her thoughts and walked over to the man. He showed her a large, brass cage that was meant for Hermes. She thanked him and cast a shrinking spell on the cage before pocketing it into her purse.

Leaving the emporium, she took a light stroll down Diagon Alley with a content expression painted over her face. Finally, she'd gotten away from that old shopkeeper! He'd kept staring at her like she was a midnight snack, and for him, knowing her name was like icing on the cake. She shuddered as she took a turn and walked, trying to avoid a group of tall wizards who were busy discussing Quidditch. She quirked up an eyebrow, to notice that ahead was posters of the next Quidditch match between England and Bulgaria.

"How come nobody ever told me about this?" she murmured to herself curiously.

Walking closer to one of the posters, which had a picture of Galvin Gudgeon and Joey Jenkins of the Chudley Cannons, Hermione couldn't help but smile to herself. She'd forgotten all about Quidditch. Her memories of it weren't so great, especially since she detested flying. Harry and Ron were always better at that than she was. The smile on her face was instantly wiped off upon thinking of the two boys – now men. Oh, how time had changed them. And how time had changed _her_.

"Chudley Cannons! Chudley Cannons!" shouted the crowd around her.

Hermione turned around instantly and ducked as a gust of wind blew past her. Orange and red illuminated the air around her in sparkles. A few witches nearby clapped and whistled as men clad in bright orange robes flew by again before landing on their feet before the wizards and witches of Diagon Alley. Hermione couldn't help but notice people peering out from shop windows and some even bending over balconies to see the celebrity Quidditch players. The crowd liked what they saw but nobody moved. Hermione's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. Why would the Chudley Cannons ever have to promote themselves to sell tickets? The times weren't that bad, were they? She bit her lip, waiting for an explanation, but it seemed as if time around her stood still. The whishing noise from the brooms and the clapping had ceased. That's when she realized that the Quidditch players weren't in Diagon Alley to promote themselves, but to deliver a special message. And judging by the stares that she was getting from everyone around her, she assumed that said special message was meant for none other than herself.

"Are you Hermione Granger?" asked a man. He was Dragomir Gorgovitch. Hermione recognized him. He was the Chaser for the team.

"Y-yes," she stammered, her face going red.

"I have a special message for you from a friend," he said. The tall man stepped closer to her with a bright orange envelope in his right hand that matched his own robes. Hermione noticed how his dark brown hair hung in his face, and his chiseled features were enhanced in the sun. He was very handsome, and she'd seen pictures of him back at Hogwarts when her roommates would gush over him, but seeing him up close in person was a different story.

_Dear Hermione,_

_A little birdie told me you'd be in Diagon Alley today. I hope you aren't too upset with me for calling the Chudley Cannons to deliver this message. I hope that it means more to you though, and that you will consider my offer for you to be my escort to the coming Quidditch match on the 17__th__. Enclosed is your ticket. Also attending the match will be Astoria, Daphne, Blaise, and Draco. There's no need to respond to me immediately as there are a good few weeks before the big day. I just hope that you give my offer some real thought._

_Yours truly,  
Theo_


	19. Strings

Love Me Nott: by Mocktail

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing; these characters were created by J.K. Rowling. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_A/N: Guys, thanks for reading again. Any reviews/comments are greatly appreciated._

_

* * *

_CHAPTER 19: STRINGS

Hermione could not sleep that night. Her eyes refused to close for more than five seconds, and her heart was hammering against her ribcage. She stared up at her empty ceiling in the near silence as her clock ticked and tocked with each second that passed. She exhaled as she rolled over on her side. Her brown tresses were tangled up on her pillow. All she could think about was Theodore. Where did they stand? What did he expect from her? Was he trying to buy her friendship? She winced and bit her lip. First, it was Hermes. She loved him; he was truly beautiful and loved his new cage. Next, it was a ticket to the coming Quidditch match. It was an invitation delivered to her from the Chudley Cannons. It must have cost quite a bit to get both of these favours done.

While she felt the need to discuss this with Theodore, she also thought about how she may have been overanalyzing the situation. Perhaps he was just being friendly, she thought. If Ginny were here, she would have discussed this with her. But with her marriage and pregnancy on her social calendar, and the fact that they were no longer as close as they used to be, she did not believe that this was the best choice. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe not.

It didn't matter. In twelve hours, she would run into a group of Slytherin anyway.

-

Astoria picked up her goblet of pumpkin juice and twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. She wore a bored expression on her face and refrained from falling asleep on her brunch. Daphne, who sat across from her, watched as Draco and Blaise discussed their plans for the day, as well as the latest happenings. Theodore was examining the broomsticks that they carried with them into the café near Fluorish and Blotts in Diagon Alley. They were prototypes of the new line of fastest, lightweight brooms that weren't purchasable. Studying his empty goblet, he stifled a yawn as he put his elbow on the table, pretending to be fascinated by Draco and Blaise's friendly bicker.

"Blaise, we went there last time and I nearly lost my broom," frowned Draco, with a shake of his head.

"I guess some of us are just more skilled in flying than others," grinned Blaise.

"Oh, don't flatter yourself!" exclaimed Draco. "It's not my fault I hadn't flown at your cottage before."

"Boys, get over it," sighed Daphne, with a roll of her eyes. "We can bicker, gloat, and just end up not flying."

The men looked rather flustered before they regained their composure. Astoria and Theodore shared a knowing glance as they smirked to themselves. Daphne always had a knack for stopping arguments in a certain demeanor that made people feel small. However, she could also be very nice, but was mostly seen as a sophisticated individual. She had her arms folded across her chest, glancing at Blaise and Draco.

"_Fine_, we'll go to your cottage again," said Draco, acting as if he was doing Blaise a huge favour.

"That's alright by me," nodded Blaise, snaking an arm around Daphne's waist.

"Merlin, have mercy…" frowned Daphne.

Astoria plastered a smile on her face and dug into her scrambled eggs. Finally, they had it figured out. She was quite excited, to be completely honest, even though she was as good with flying as she was with her love life. She murmured to herself as she rested her elbow on the table, her chin against her palm. She tried to stop thinking about the things that disturbed her and instead focused on what would happen today. There were four broomsticks. It was expected that Theodore, Draco, and Astoria would have their own, while Daphne and Blaise were to share one, in which they'd most likely snog each other's brains out. They weren't too keen on the idea, especially since Daphne was quite a flier herself. Flying at Blaise's was a treat because there was a huge expanse of privately shared land near his cottage. Every now and then would be fliers or vacationers, but it was usually empty and relaxing instead of lonely.

Her thoughts were distracted by a familiar witch who walked into the café with a puzzled look on her face. She seemed to be unaware of her surroundings. But to be fair, she didn't seem to care either. She wasn't looking around, but seemed to be unfocused though coordinated. Her hair was down in waves as she ran her fingers through the brown tresses. She had a few wrinkles in her loose white tank top that she wore over a pair of denim shorts.

"Hermione!" Astoria found herself saying.

The witch immediately looked around at the sound of someone calling her name.

"Over here," said Draco, noticing a confused Hermione.

The brunette smiled at nobody in particular as she noticed the Slytherin group sitting together around a round table. She tried to avoid Theodore's gaze. Something inside of her told her that she should've talked to him or at least thanked him in person for the gift. But a nap hadn't cleared her mind and she was still confused about his intentions for the Quidditch match.

"Hey," she said softly. "What a surprise, seeing you all here."

"Join us," grinned Astoria, pulling up a chair for Hermione. The witch felt no reason to refuse the girl's offer, so she took the seat with a smile. Theodore passed Hermione the menu while Daphne cleared her throat to continue the dead conversation.

"Anyways, Calla is going to be there, right?" asked Daphne sweetly. She placed a napkin over her pink lips.

"Yeah, I guess it must be pretty lonely for her," replied Blaise plainly.

"Who's Calla?" queried Hermione. She hadn't spoken much since she joined the table, in which Daphne flashed her a friendly smile before answering her question.

"Calla is Blaise's House Elf," she said.

Blaise nodded in agreement and took a bite of his toast. Daphne picked it up and buttered it before putting it back on his plate. With a gentle peck on the cheek from her boyfriend, Daphne grinned at him. All of a sudden, Hermione felt a nudge from Astoria. Whipping her head around to face the pretty witch, she shot her an odd look. It was only until Hermione realized why she'd done that. She was staring, wasn't she? And it was painfully obvious too! She felt an instant pang of jealousy from the kiss and embarrassment from being caught. She wasn't supposed to feel any of this, she thought. Since when did she care if she was lonely? Love was supposed to be superficial! It never worked for her and never would. She bit her lip as she stared daggers into her menu as she hid her blush. Five minutes later, she ordered from a handsome waiter and watched as the others weren't even halfway through their brunch. She was stuck in her own thoughts until Theodore tapped her on the arm. Her eyes met his and she moved her arm away quickly as if she'd been burnt.

"Yes?" she croaked, trying not to sound horrible.

"I was wondering if you've got any plans for today," said Theodore casually. Hermione couldn't help but notice how the ends of his hair were wet and how he wore such a relaxed expression. He was pretending as if nothing ever happened between them, though that wasn't to say that anything transpired in the first place.

"Why?" queried Hermione defensively. She was playing a dangerous game. The handsome wizard's eyebrows knitted together.

"Well, we were going to head out to Blaise's cottage. If you don't have anything else to do, you could come with us," he offered. Blaise nodded with a smile as Daphne whispered something in his ear.

Hermione tried not to look surprised or embarrassed once more. It was difficult controlling what she felt. She thought of an excuse. What about meeting a friend? No. Wanting to read? That sounded lame. She winced. It was taxing on her brain to think of one, and Theodore had probably caught onto her plan. Besides, cottages were fun, weren't they? She noticed that they'd brought broomsticks along with them. Perhaps they'd go flying. She didn't like flying and stayed away from it after her first year at Hogwarts. She could always do other things at his cottage, she mused. Perhaps she'd be able to make friends with his House Elf. She smirked at how ridiculous that sounded.

"Alright," she agreed, wondering if she was getting herself into trouble.

After all, it was yet another outing with people. Last time she went, Draco had roughed her up pretty badly. However, this was different. They seemed more trustworthy this time despite the fact that they were heading off to a quiet location. Besides, Hermione had her wand.

-

The Zabini cottage was beautiful, large, and away from all the hustle and bustle of the city. The expanse of land was huge and looked rich with life. The air around them seemed so fresh and clean, while a gentle spring breeze blew past everyone, letting the leaves and needles on trees lean in one direction. The rustling noise of the greenery was soothing and calm, as the sun in the sky highlighted the glistening waters past the cliffs and hills of the shared land. A few birds flew over the cottage and into the blue backdrop of the sky, where white clouds were being blown across. Hermione hadn't felt so relaxed in forever. She made a mental note to thank Blaise later.

"Okay, let's go!" announced Daphne happily. She clapped her hands as she walked over to Blaise and planted a kiss lovingly on his lips. Their bodies pressed against each other as she let her boyfriend kiss her back, pulling her into him as Hermione winced.

Turning around to focus her attention elsewhere, she noticed that Theodore and Draco were carrying the broomsticks. Hermione thought about how the cliffs and water in the huge expanse of land would have made a great flying area. Harry and Ron would have loved it, she thought. Shaking her head, she refused to think about her past. But instead, focus on what was in the present.

"'Mione?" Hermione heard her voice. She spun around to find herself looking at Draco.

"Yeah?" she responded.

"Do you want to fly?" he asked her curiously. He held a broomstick in his hand, but it was clearly meant for him.

"No thanks, I'm horrible at it," she said quickly. The blonde quirked up his eyebrow and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I highly doubt that, even though you _were_ pretty rusty in your first year," he smirked. Hermione frowned at his statement. "Come on, we'll teach you."

Hermione flushed a violent shade of red upon hearing that. It would have been so humiliating. She could only imagine how it would go! The Slytherin would probably be trying their hardest not to laugh while Hermione tried to lift off. It would have been sad and pathetic. Heck, even her father would be rolling around in his grave if he saw this.

"You guys don't seem to have enough brooms. I mean, six of us and four broomsticks…" murmured Hermione. "It's fine, really."

"Oh, we won't be too hard on you. We're no Quidditch players," winked Draco, giving a nod at Theodore in the distance. Hermione's eyebrows knitted together. What was this man getting at? He then continued in a quieter tone of voice. "You _are_ going to the game, right?"

Hermione's eyes widened.

"Did you invite me out here to ask me _this_?" she replied, trying not to snap back. Her eyes narrowed.

"No, we invited you out here because we thought you needed it. A place like this lets us relax and grow closer to leave the drama behind," he told her. "So what do you say?"

Hermione licked her bottom lip and hesitantly turned around to meet Theodore's gaze. He looked so expectant of her. He supposed that Draco wasn't asking her _for_ him, but just pulling some strings. It was understandable, however. How awkward would it have been to ask Hermione this when he specifically told her that there was plenty of time to think about his offer?

"I'll tell you at the end of the day after I've relaxed," replied Hermione smartly.

With that, Draco smirked at her.


End file.
